


This Town

by numbateme



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cities, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Football, Graduation, Guiness, Harry Potter References, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Music, One Direction Hiatus, Religion, This Town by Niall Horan, Travel, Troye Sivan References, Ziall Horlik, grim, ziall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 356,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9574700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numbateme/pseuds/numbateme
Summary: Niall Horan wants nothing more than his brothers, Liam, Harry, Louis and Zayn, to be brothers like they all once were before the hiatus.But with 1 brother on one side, and 3 on the other, will Niall see his brothers get along?Will all five of them put the past in the past or will they continue to deepen the spaces they've all made?





	1. Friends Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy ☺

**As we go on**  
**We remember**

  
**All the times we**  
**Had together**

  
**And as our lives change**  
**Come whatever**

  
**We will still be**  
**_Friends Forever_**

_**~ ~ * ~ ~** _

 

“… 15 minutes to landing at JFK,” announced the Captain. Eleanor Calder, Niall’s Personal Assistance/Best Friend, turned with a grin on her lips at him, and squeezed his hand. Niall sighed to the back of his plane seat, looking out the window at the skyscrapers of New York City.

Niall was heading to New York for the promotion of his debut single, _This Town_. The single, released just two months ago, had hit the top charts across the globe, been number one in more than 37 countries, had already been nominated for countless awards, not to mention it was the soundtrack to several movies being released this year such as _Sing_ , _How To Be Single_ , _Bad Moms_ , and countless others Niall cannot remember as of now.

Steve Barnett, the Chairman and CEO of Capitol Music Group, thought Niall had potential. Steve, as he insisted to be called when Niall first met him, believed he had something spicy, something along Of Monsters and Men, Imogen Heap and Passenger, or even a little daring such as Imagine Dragons and Hozier. Therefore, Steve took him under his wing and soon Niall discovered he had much more leeway, and wriggle room with Capitol Records than Sony, and all the other sub labels, and he has been having a blast.

His career was going great, so great in fact that when he got a phone call from Billboard to perform at their upcoming event in two weeks, he agreed without hesitation. However, it was only recently when he had finally stopped to _breathe_ in and reflect on his life that he realized his personal life was a mess.

Or rather, his personal life with the boys.

There was no story with the boys without thinking about March, 2016, the month that Zayn Malik, their former bandmate, called it quits. He remembered that night clearly. Very clearly.

They were touring somewhere in Southeast Asia, on their OTRA tour, performing at sold out concerts, and still topping charts, and whatnot. Slaying, like they always do. The following day had been an off day and therefore they had gone to do whatever they each did on their free time. For Niall, that meant exploring the city along with Harry Styles, buying souvenirs, trying out local cuisines, Harry taking far _too_ many photos on his phone, and generally, learning about the magical cities they were touring.

He had come back, calling it a day instead of going out clubbing with Harry and Liam, and on his way to the back to his hotel room Paul gave him a ring on his phone. _Zayn has left_ , he had said on the phone. He did not believe him. _He’s gone Niall_ , he had repeated.

And as far as Niall can remember, that was the start of the end. The rest of 2015 was a blur to him. He went from laughing at interviews to avoiding answering questions regarding Zayn’s departure. He went from strumming his electric guitar hard as Zayn played with his nipples to still strumming his guitar but with the band now. He went from being the happy-go-lucky Irish lad to the barely-smiling Irish cooking chicken with no seasoning.

And Niall thought that was the end. But, really, it was only the _start_.

He did not know how they got to the point where all of them agreed that they should take a hiatus but. It happened. They were talking out of their asses in the wee hours of the morning in Louis’ backyard, swimming in their glasses and, most definitely, conversations in the A.M. were not his favourite. In fact, he hated drinking in the wee hours of the morning ever since that night, the night, as he now knew it, when One Direction _died_.

It seemed as if everyone was doing well with the bloody hiatus. Harry was an actor in _Dunkirk_ and was already auditioning for his next movie, Louis was becoming a father and doing the final touches to his production company, and Liam was, well, Liam. And what about him? What washed doing with his life? He was _nothing_. Everybody had left and suddenly he felt all alone.

After the (stupid) hiatus he called up the few friends he had left and decided to backpack across Asia. Sort of like _Eat.Pray.Love_ but different. Ish. He began with India, starting off with the capital New Delhi, then heading to the South, passing Calcutta, Mumbai, Bangalore and ending the Indian part of his tour with Chennai. Next was Myanmar, followed by Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Malaysia, and Indonesia where he spent a larger part loving, laughing and living.

It was when Deo, his best mate, was debating whether their next trip should be to Papua New Guinea, or Philippines that he heard it on radio. He heard _the_ song. _PILLOW TALK_ had just premiered on the radio and it had been a little while since he turned on the radio. Listening to the song, listening to his _voice_ , he was floored by it all.

Except he was the only one.

On their WhatsApp group, where Louis had notoriously removed Zayn from the group, blocked him, and then changed the group name to “4/4 ONE DIRECTION”, the three of them were bashing the song. He was of a different opinion.

 

 

 

 **LOUIS:** Have you heard his song?

(The boys never mentioned Zayn’s name, ever, as if it was saying Voldemort’s name or summat.)

 **HARRY:** TRASH TRASH TRASH

 **LOUIS:** AND HE SAID HE WANTED TO BE A “NORMAL 22 YEAR OLD.”

 **HARRY:** HE’S A SHITTY LIAR! LIAR LIAR LIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!!

 **LIAM:** HAVE YOU SEEN HIS SHIT VIDEO?

(At his point, Niall was wondering why they were writing in all CAPS!)

 **HARRY:** HE HAS A VIDEO?! TO ACCOMPANY HIS SHIT SONG?

 **LIAM:** HE DOES! HE’S IN IT WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND WHATSHERFACE

 **LOUIS:** WHAT DOES GIGI EVEN SEE IN HIM? HE’S NOTHING BUT A TRAITOR, MANIPULATOR, AND A TRAITOR!

 **HARRY:** DON’T FORGET ASSHOLE. AN ASSHOLEY LIAR!

 **LIAM:** WHERE IS NIALL?? HE’S ALWAYS AROUND WHEN WE TRASH TALK HIM

Niall, over the months, got a little tired on trash talking the singer of _PILLOW TALK_. It was fun, at first, because he was releasing his anger and it felt _good_ to vent out his feelings to people who felt the same way about March 2015. But not anymore. Now he just felt numb to it all.

 **HARRY:** WHO DUMPS SOMEONE OVER TEXT? TEXT MESSAGE?

 **LIAM:** WE ALL HAVE SOME DECENCY! NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU HATE SOMEONE!!

 **LOUIS:** EXACTLY!

Niall snorted at that. For what he put Eleanor, his ex-girlfriend, through this was hilarious. Bloody hilarious, really.

 **HARRY:** I DIDN’T DUMP TAYLOR OVER TEXT, EVEN IF I WANTED TO FUCKING KILL HER FOR SPREADING CHEATING RUMORS.

 **LIAM:** WE KNOW THE TRUTH, HAZ.

 **LOUIS:** AND THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FUCKER!

Getting off the bed, and heading to the fridge for a can of Guinness, he had scrolled past down that part of the conversation and landed on where they continued talking about him, except, _more_.

 **HARRY:** I SAY WE BLOCK HIM!

 **LIAM:** I SAY THAT TOO!!

 **LOUIS:** I ALREADY DID!! EVER SINCE THAT FUCKTARD DECIDED TO INSULT ME BEHIND NAUGHTY BOY’S TWITTER ACCOUNT, HE WAS DEAD TO ME.

 **HARRY:** HE DID HAVE THE GUTS TO EVEN SAY IT WITH HIS own ACCOUNT!

 **NIALL:** Maybe it was Naughty Boy typing.

 **HARRY:** WE TYPE IN CAPS NIALL!

 **LOUIS:** NAUGHTY BOY CANNOT INSULT ANYONE FOR SHIT. HE’S A PATHETIC SUASAGE THAT LEECHES ON PEOPLE’S TALENT AND MAKES IT OUT AS HIS OWN!!

 **LIAM:** I AGREE. WE BLOCK HIM!!

 **HARRY:** WE BASICALLY RUINED HIS CAREER ANYWAY!

 **LOUIS:** HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA

 **LIAM:** ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER SLAAAAAAAY

 **HARRY:** BLOCKED ZAYN?

 **LIAM:** CHECK

 **LOUIS:** CHECK

 **HARRY:** NIALL?

It was here where the conversation had been left, all three of them awaiting his response as if he was the Prime Minster with nuclear codes just waiting to press the red button. Tipping his head back to drink his beer, he said, _fuck it_ , and typed out his response.

 **NIALL:** CHECK

 **LOUIS:** 4/4 ONE DIRECTION

 **HARRY:** (:

 **LIAM:** 100%

And he had never felt so guilty for blocking him for absolutely no reason.

 

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

 

Back in his hotel room, there was a knock on the door. He walked to the it, Eleanor standing on the other side, and he invited her in.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Her eyes raked down his what looked like PJs. “The Jenny Pacman show is literally in two hours and you need to go in for make-up and a—”

“I will.”

Eleanor sighed, one hand on her hip, as Niall plopped on the bed. He picked up his phone, unlocked it, and just stared at it. He shook his head out of his trance and opened his Twitter app, and as if on autopilot, typed _his_ name on the search bar and his Twitter page loaded.

 _@zaynmalik is blocked._ Twitter told him. _Do you really want to see his tweets? Seeing @zaynmalik’s tweets won’t unblock him._

He clicked on his the option of viewing his Tweets, but did not get far as Eleanor snatched his phone from his left hand and looked down at the screen.

“You can’t keep looking at Zayn’s Twitter page constantly, Nini! You’re driving yourself mad over this.”

“Not really,” he half-heartedly protested, staring at his phone in her hand. “I—I just want to see what he’s up to.”

“That’s what blogs, online magazines, and Youtube is for.”

“He has 11 million views on _PILLOW TALK_ already. Did you see?”

She presses two digits to her forehead. “Niall.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

She sat to his left, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and laid her head on his shoulder. “Life’s not fair, obviously. It’s not fair Zayn left, not fair _how_ he left, leaving a space in each of our hearts, but he did. But stalking him on Twitter, Instagram, reading every article ever written about him, replaying _PILLOW TALK_ on Youtube so has to increase the views and even taking screenshots of his new profile pictures will not make Zayn come back.”

He deeply sighed. “It might.”

She lifted her head of his shoulder. “Zayn left, Nini. He left all of you and, while no one knows the absolute reason apart from him, he still left.”

“I just wish we didn’t all hate each other. I wish we could go back to the good ol’ days when we were announcing our world tour, or summat.”

“Maybe this is the way of things now. Without Zayn, without One D, without dumb love songs with nothing but memories. Our lives change, Niall, and we change with it.”

Niall did not want that. He did not want change if it meant all this hositility, all this animosity amongst people he considered his brothers. He did not want it at all.

 

 

The Jenny Pacman show turned out to be a modelling show that Eleanor should have informed beforehand so that he would have cancelled last minute. He chuckled to himself then. Of course Niall knew that Eleanor knew that the Jenny Pacman show was a modelling event and she knew he would have cancelled and so the reason for her silence.

He sighed loudly as Sandra, the assistant organizer, told him that he shall be escorting a New York model by the name Charlotte Rhodes down the walkway. He sent a quick text to Eleanor informing her the different ways in which he would happily kill her.

 **Eleanor:** you love me too much xx

 **NIALL:** Whoever told you that is a liar.

He sat down in front of a mirror with far too many make-up brushes and things that he absolutely had no idea were, and lights. Lots, and lots of light bulbs that were blinding him with every minute he sat in the chair as his hair was done.

As one of the various make-up artists did his hair (adding far to much gel to make his fringe stand), he pocketed his phone out and like clockwork, went straight to Twitter, typed _his_ name, and it loaded. He clicked on “See Tweets” and there was nothing new. Nothing new he had tweeted since Eleanor snatched his phone back at the hotel.

He pocketed his phone to the back of his designer jeans he was forced into, seeing as they were too tight for his liking (and body), paired with an vomit-inducing olive green color button-up that washed him out. He took a deep breath in, said to himself while looking at the large mirror with many light bulbs, that if he wanted to be successful, with the likes of Lana Del Rey and the Eagles, he had to do cringe-y things such as being a half-model at a show with some gorgeous model but he would 99% not date.

Even if he did not understand how this was promoting his debut single.

The event went in a blur and he found himself searching for Eleanor at the afterpart of the Jenny Pacman show. He stopped his search upon discovering there was a bar. A _free_ _bar_. He boozed up, chugging down beer after beer, and soon he was laughing with people at the party. Just like Niall’s sober personality, he managed to hold everyone’s breath with tales of One Direction tours instead of, say, promote his single.

The night dragged on, the only reason it was still on was because of Niall’s entertaining tales of the good ol’ days of One Direction. As he was talking of the time Louis and Zayn were pranking Liam in the bus, he spotted Eleanor amongst the crowd vividly listening to him. Suddenly his humour stopped and he remembered _why_ he was brought to this stupid event.

“Why would you not give me a heads up?” he growled at her once they were both in the limo heading back to the hotel. “You and I are a team. You give me a heads up when the stupid Chairman says I have to do—”

“This is part of the promotion period, Niall, you need to put yourself out there. Though I doubt you’ve done much since all you talked about was One Direction.”

“One Direction was the greatest time of my life,” said Niall and he is floored by the candour of his words.

“It isn’t anymore. Now it’s all about _This Town_ and getting it to number one in all the countr—”

“By making me a dumb model at some show? With a shirt that washes out, no less. Do you know how white I am?” He leaned further back in the limo seat. “Who the hell even is Jenny Pacman?”

“Who cares?” she scoffed at him. “No one cares in this world and you know that better than anyone else. All anyone cares is what you are and how you can help them. Haven’t you learned the ways of this industry?” she lightly joked.

“How did you help me?” he asked and Eleanor for the first time did not have a response.

“I’m sorry. I know we are a team, it’s us against everyone else. You helped me when Louis and I were breaking down and once again when I was looking for a job when Max and I had issues with our blog.”

Max and Eleanor, best friends forever, had started a blog titled _The Trend Pear_. It was essentially a lifestyle blog, talking of fashion, fitness, food, everything really. However, it soon turned ugly with Max wanting the whole blog to himself and through lawsuits, Twitter insults, brawls and various other uglies, Eleanor quit before she could lose her baby.

How Niall found Eleanor was still a mystery, how they got to work with each other was beyond Niall, but they did. Niall sometimes wondered if he made Eleanor his PA because she reminded him of a part a time in One Direction but then he shook his head. _It is much more than that_ , he told himself.

Eleanor was friendship, she was a constant in his life, a constant that he appreciated and cherished and when Eleanor told her that she wanted to start a travel blog, he said, “I travel the world a lot. Join me!” and she did and it has been an adventure since then.

Her Youtube channel, in a mere two, three months, was now the second most subscribed Youtube channel, after Zoella. She has several tales of her trips from New Delhi, to Abu Dhabi, to Perth, across the ocean to Cancún, several major cities in USA, and much, _much_ more. The more cities she travelled to, the more people watched her Channel, more people loved her travel adventures. It got to the point where cities _asked_ her to come and explore and talk, chat, picture their beautiful land and she did – with Niall in tow.

Her and Niall quickly became the best of friends, surprising everyone including Louis, who narrowed his eyes and wondered what Niall was up to.

“I don’t like her _like that_ ,” Niall had reassured Louis, with a definitive eye roll.

“Then why are you so chummy chummy with my ex?”

“Your ex and I are just friends. Trust me,” he had insisted.

Louis had responded. He never listened because he was honestly _bored_ by all of it. He continued traveling alongside her and when they had landed in Cairo, he decided to start his solo career. To fill in the time, really.

“Sorry for being angry,” he apologized, the limo stopping at a red light.

“It’s just that every time I see you on your phone, nine out of ten, I know you’re on Zayn’s Twitter account, as if waiting for his tweet. Like, you’re waiting for a phone call that’s never going to come. And it makes me sad.”

“I just wish that we’d all get along like before. Just because we took different paths doesn’t make us enemies.”

“You’ve got to understand, they are still hurt.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “And it’s going to take a while for each of the boys to come around.”

“It’s been a bloody year since he left.”

“Why haven’t _you_ done anything about it?”

“Because.” He stopped. He looked out the window as the limo drove down the road. He truly did not know the answer. He did not know why he did not just unblock Zayn, follow him, and then tweet him. He did. Not. _Know_. “I don’t know.”

“You’re scared.”

“Sacred?”

“Scared of what the world will say. Scared of what Louis will think, what Harry will do and what Liam shall say. You’re scared of Directioners, of the people you work with, of everyone because everyone also hates Zayn and if you follow him – or even dare talk to him – it is an act of betrayal.”

“I can’t lose Liam, Harry and Louis. Nor the fans. I can’t lose everyone.”

“You won’t lose me,” she said and there was something in her voice. Something that sounded as if it would be okay if he dared to do what he thought he should do.

“I know that. But. I’m afraid.”

“It’s up to you, Nini.” She reached out and held his fingers with hers. “You control this whole thing. Whether you want to be friends with Zayn again or not, whatever you choose, make sure it’s what you want and close the door.”

“What if I be friends with Zayn, then lose Harry, Liam and Louis in the process? Or what if my attempt at friendship with Zayn sucks so bad and they hear about it and I lose _all_ four of them?”

Eleanor sighed somewhere near Niall’s left ear. She brought their hands onto her lap and said nothing for a while. The limo reached their hotel and they both made their way up to their floor, Eleanor holding on Niall’s elbow.

“Cuddle tonight?” asked Niall. Eleanor shook her head. She then took off her 6-inch heels, left foot then right foot, and happily sighed. “Why wear those things when you hate them?”

“No pain, no gain, you know the motto.”

“Wearing tight jeans was painful,” he chuckles. Just then, she straightened up and locked her eyes with Niall’s blue ones.

“Forget everybody for a moment, Niall. It’s your life, do what you want.”

 

The words resonated within him, thinking about them over and over and over as he walked into the hotel room, changed into his PJs, brushed his teeth, combed his hair and drowned a beer as he watched _If I Stay_ on the hotel TV. Laying his head on the pillow, he unlocked his phone and headed straight to his Twitter account (surprise surprise).

The words _@zaynmalik is blocked._ stared back at him.

He minimized and goes to the WhatsApp group with three of his mates.

 

 **HARRY:** I’m literally going to spoil your son, Loubear! Going to buy him all the nicest clothes, and those cute socks!!

 **LIAM:** Oh Boy!! You’d Think It Was You Who Is Pregnant, Not Louis.

 **HARRY:** BABIES ARE AMAZING, LI, OF COURSE I AM EXCITED. Who wouldn’t be excited?

 **LIAM:** Probably Briana?

 **LOUIS:** She kept the baby, so I’d say she is excited.

 **HARRY:** I’m much MORE excited because I know I won’t do all those ugly baby stuff like changing diapers. Waking up at ungodly hours. UGH.

 **LIAM:** Or When They Accidentally Burp And You Have Puke All Over Your Shirt.

 **HARRY:** BUT when after all that, and you’re watching them sleep in their crib, it is all worth it.

 **LIAM:** No It’s Not.

 **LOUIS:** Give it up Liam. You’ll never convince Haz otherwise. I swear he sleeps, drinks, talks, eats babies.

 **HARRY:** YES!

 **LIAM:** That Sounds A Little Weird. “EAT BABIES”?!?!

 **LOUIS:** It’s all he does.

Niall scrolled down the conversation, Harry still gushing over Louis’ soon-to-be-born baby. At the back of his mind, he wondered if all they do is stay online, chatting the day away, or if they do do something during the day. Like, go to work.

 **LOUIS:** THE FUCKTARD BLOODY TWEETED ME! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

Niall rolled his eyes. Back to hating on him then.

 **HARRY:** I KNOW! HOW DESPERATE CAN YOU BE?

 **LIAM:** I HAVEN’T SEEN HIS TWEET. WHAT DID HE SAY?

 **LOUIS:** TALKING ABOUT HOW HAPPY HE IS THAT I AM GOING TO BE A FATHER AND ALL THAT. FUCKING BULLSHIT!

 **HARRY:** PEOPLE SHOULD KEEP THEIR NOSE IN THEIR OWN BUSINESS.

 **LIAM:** WHERE DOES HE GET THE RIGHT TO CONGRATULATE YOU?

 **HARRY:** SCREW HIM!

 **LIAM:** NO LOVE FOR HIM H?

 **HARRY:** HE GETS NO LOVE FROM ME!

 **LIAM:** WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU NIALL? YOU’RE MISSING OUT!

He really was not, if he was being honest. He sighed and scrolled to the bottom of the messages and typed out his message.

 **NIALL:** Goodnight lads!

 **LOUIS:** It’s so early Nialler.

 **NIALL:** I’ve got iHeart Radio tomorrow morning. I’ve got to be fresh in the morning or I’ll clonk out right there in the studio.

 **HARRY:** Night Niall. All the love!!

 **LIAM:** Talk Tomorrow Buddy. How Long Will You Be In NYC?

 **NIALL:** Not long. Why

 **LIAM:** Thought I’d Fly To LA For Studio Session With J.Cole

 **LOUIS:** SIIIIICK!!

 **NIALL:** That’d be great. Tell me if you decide to then we fly to LA together.

 **LIAM:** Alright. Night Nighty!!

 

 

Niall shut the WhatsApp App and logged back to Twitter. Eleanor’s words, _forget everybody for a moment Niall. It’s your life, do what you want_ , played through in his mind. If he truly forgot about everyone – _everyone_ – he had himself left. So what did _he_ want?

If he was being honest, what he wanted is for all of them to be brothers again. For the five of them to get along like they did before, like they did when they were all in One Direction. Niall wanted all of them to be brothers and that was it, really.

With that in mind, he unblocked Zayn on Twitter with bated breath. Zayn’s Twitter page rolled up, and Niall’s heart beat rapidly underneath his skin and bones.

His profile picture was that of his upcoming album, Mind of Mine. His twitter status was _fuck whoever tells you no ! do you, be proud and love lots ! :)_ and his most recent tweet was two days ago: a reply to his girlfriend, Gigi Hadid, about his latest music video, _PILLOW TALK_.

He scrolled past that tweet, and kept scrolling, drinking everything in, tweet after tweet, image after image, even going through his likes. Every. Single. One. Niall was not joking.

After reaching the bottom of all his images, he went back to the first image, and the follow button called out to him, like a loud trumpet.

_forget everybody for a moment Niall. It’s your life, do what you want._

He clicked on the follow button, the icon turning blue, and he locks his phone before Hell began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my FIRST attempt at a ZIALL fanfic... honestly, there aren't ENOUGH Ziall fanfics in the WORLD (aka AO3) and thought I'd give my 2 cents on the tag... or yeah. COMMENTS & KUDOS appreciated. Would love to know your thoughts


	2. Hey Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall and Eleanor go about vlogging in Manhattan.

> **A candle does not lose its light by lighting other candles.**  
>    ~ **Harshasha**

 

Loud banging on his hotel door startled him awake. It took a second or seven for him to get his bearing and the pounding on the hotel door louder and louder. He groggily dragged his feet to the door, and opened it without checking through the peep hole.

“What have you been up to?” Eleanor explodes, making her way into his hotel room. Niall rubs his eye with the back of his hand, sleep still heavy under his eyes. “It’s almost one-thirty. In the afternoon, Niall. Have you really been asleep all this time?”

“Yeah,” he managed to say, his throat scratchy. “Why are you so hyper in the morning?”

“I’m guessing you haven’t checked Twitter? Instagram? Maybe read a few articles this morning?”

Niall stared at her. “No. Why? Are people hating on my brunette hair once again? That’s hardl—”

“You followed Zayn yesterday.”

“… I did. Yeah.”

“And?” she asked, waiting for a better explanation than that.

“And I turned on his notifications.”

Eleanor groaned, flopping down on the chair and crossed her leg on her knee. “You really haven’t seen anything?”

“No. And please tell me you’re carrying food in that large bag of yours?” he asked, eyeing Eleanor’s rather large forest green bag.

“Nope. Today is vlogging day so I’m going round Manhattan to—Stop distracting me! You’ve brought the world of Twitter on a standstill.”

Niall gawks at her. “Why?”

“Because, you Irish idiot, unblocked Zayn and followed him. Everyone knows that all four of you blocked him literally the month after he left and now here you are, following him. Immediately after, the Zquad and Directioners got wind of it.”

Niall sat on the edge of the bed, his head spinning lightly. “Crap.”

“Crap does not cover it. The two fandoms got into wars with each other, one saying that you were a traitor to the pact that you made with Louis and Co. while the Zquad were saying that you finally grew a pair and—”

“Grew a pair? Whose words?”

“Theirs,” she said, a little too quick if Niall is being honest, “but I agree with them. Took you long to grow a pair.”

“Someone told me that it’s my life and I can do what I want,” he said and winked at her.

“So after the war, which is still going on right now, several trending hashtags were about you, well, you and Zayn. There was Ziall, Ziall Bromance, someone hoping One D were getting back together but the one which is still trending is Ziall. Then people like Sugarscape, Elle, the Debrief,” she flips her wrist in a ‘and all those others’ motion, “were all about you following and what impact this has. Most just want to know if there is a One D reunion.”

“I agree with them,” confessed Niall.

“He followed you.”

Niall looked up from the floor at her. “Zayn?” She nodded. “He followed me?”

“A few minutes ago.”

 

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

 

After the interview with _iHeart_ _Radio_ , Niall accompanies Eleanor on her Youtube vlogging tour of Manhattan. The interview, thankfully, goes on successfully and thanks to his bestfriend slash PA, the topic of him following Zayn on Twitter was not brought up. He talked about his debut single, the vague meaning of _This Town_ , his future plans, if he prefers chocolate ice-cream over vanilla, you know, the norm.

For the day, if he is being honest, would have been spent lounging in the hotel room, watching whatever was on TV, then ordering a Guinness six-pack, then ordering pizza, and passing out before 10 o’clock.

“I can’t believe that we’re really going to all the places that _Gossip Girl_ was filmed at,” moaned Niall as they got into a yellow taxi and Eleanor gave the taxi driver their next address.

“Don’t pout, Nini,” she grinned, linked her hand to his elbow. “We’re going to have an amazing time.”

“And momentarily forget the war going on in cyberspace,” groaned Niall, throwing his head back against the taxi seat.

“Have you checked your dumb One D WhatsApp group?” asked Eleanor, talking of his WhatsApp group with the other three lads where they (mainly) hate on Zayn. And occasionally talk about their lives. He cannot imagine what they are talking about _now_.

“Avoiding them too.” He shifted in his seat to face Eleanor square in the face. “Today is all about _Gossip Girl_ and trying out restaurants and seeing that particular Burlesque club that Blair and Chuck went to…”

“Is that all you care about?”

Niall chuckled. “And those other stuff too, but that Burlesque club is literally Chuck-themed. He’s been trying to create places that leave you forgetting about your life for a few hours.”

The taxi stops in front of a fast food restaurant that looks exactly like the one that was on the show. Eleanor excitedly ticks it off her notebook and pockets it back into her vanilla sling back. They make their way in the restaurant, fried food and milkshakes hitting their nostrils as well as loud chatter and music playing through four corners of the restaurant.

They are told to wait, seeing as all the tables are full and they do for 23 minutes. Finally, Niall’s rambling stomach can rest easy as the waitress sat them at a circular wooden stable with two metallic seats and the menu.

“This place looks like something off a Lana Del Rey music video,” commented Eleanor. Niall was about to comment when he saw that she is talking to her phone – probably vlogging. He looked back down at the menu, wondering what to do order. She gasped mid-sentence when Niall’s debut single plays in the restaurant and she does an actual squeal – grabbing the attention of those near them.

“Hush!” he silenced her. “People are not meant not recognize us.”

“Hush yourself! This is huge, Niall. Your song is playing at the same time you’re in a place and you’re telling me to shush!? People deserve to know how amazing you are!”

Niall chuckled and blushed under her compliments. “Thanks, El.”

“I don’t know why you get surprised when I tell you this but you’re an fan-bloody-tastic songwriter and your album is going to slay everyone’s if _This Town_ is anything to go by. You are absolutely, maddeningly talent and I’m so glad that everyone gets to know this.”

Niall pulled the menu to cover his blushing cheeks. “Stop, El. You’re embarrassing me—and stop filming me, too.”

Eleanor put a pause on her vlogging, giving in. “Alright, alright. Only because I need to preserve my battery for the other places we’re heading to. But don’t you feel it? When your song gets played?”

“Feel what?”

“Like the world is on the palm of your hands?”

Before Niall could gather a response, much less respond, the waitress came to take their order – chicken salad for Eleanor and beef burger for Niall – with milkshakes and a 2L water bottle to share.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” asked Niall.

“Yes. Why?” she responded. Niall gnawed on his bottom lip. “Please don’t tell me you’re reading _The Fault in our_ _Stars_ again?” she asked when Niall was responding. “Come _on_! Every time you read the book, then watch the movie, you start wishing for someone to come into your life. You wish for their love life.”

Niall vehemently denies it.

“To quote the book, the world is not a wish-granting factory. You actually have to get off your ass to get something done,” she said with power.

“You didn’t answer—”

“I said yes. What about you?”

“I think you never know someone is your soulmate because they grow on you. It’s like one day you’re hanging out with this person and fuck—it hits you that you’ve been falling for this person’s eyes this entire time.”

“And then they go and tell you to get an abortion,” she spat angrily.

 

What the fandom did not fully understand was the reason behind Louis and Eleanor break-up back in 2015. All the fandom got was one minute Elounor were doing great, the next Louis was kissing some woman in a pool.  As it so happened, Eleanor had accidentally gotten pregnant, or well, she was late. Her periods were four days late and she had taken all the necessary precaution to prevent it. Accidents happen, after all.

She told her then boyfriend about it and he immediately said she should get an abortion. Niall had come into the room to find Eleanor bawling on the floor, Louis angrily speaking above her. He knelt before her and held her warmly in his arms where she cried for who knows how long, Louis still spitting venoms about the abortion she was going to undertake.

Once she had calmed down she explained it all. She was late, she thought she was pregnant (was almost positive), Louis was forcing her to have an abortion to which she did not want. That night, she cried in bed being held by Niall. The next morning, Niall gave Louis a piece of his mind.

“She is scared,” he had said to him, “so scared and you act like an asshole and tell her to get an abortion!”

“Where is she going to raise that baby? Tell me Niall, where?” he barked.

“That’s her decision, Louis. You can’t tell her what she can or can’t do with her body. It’s not your body to control.”

“I am not ready to be a father and she is in no condition to be a mother.”

Niall snorted bitterly. “That’s rich, Louis. Your mother was 18 when she had you. And look at her, she’s a strong, independent woman.”

“My mother is not Eleanor.”

“You’re such a hypocrite. It’s the same bloody thing. Except, unlike your mother, Eleanor is not 18; she is old enough to take care of a baby that she wants to keep and she will have plenty of support even if _you_ aren’t in the picture.”

“No she isn’t because I know her more than anyone. We’ve been together for four fucking years!” he had growled.

Niall scoffed, Louis’ violent anger not scaring him one bit. “As if you know Eleanor is capable. Your girlfriend is much stronger than you think. She can be a single mother is she wanted to.”

“No, she can’t. Her parents will look down on her—”

“They would not hate her for being pregnant and even if—”

“Because you know her parents so well,” he scoffed, laughing sarcastically.

“She told me last night!” Louis had looked taken aback, this being new information. “She told me that all she wanted was your support but you shut her down and told her to abort the baby. How could you be so selfish Louis?”

“I’m the only one who has her best interest at heart—”

“You’re not thinking of what she’s going through. She’s bloody scared and the one person, _the_ _one person_ , she is meant to count on can barely touch her because she is carrying a baby. _Your_ baby,” he growled and pushed Louis violently.

It was then that Harry had come into the room, finding both of them on the floor in a fist fight, blood, saliva and black eyes and hanging jaws on them.

As if that was not bad enough, Eleanor had made a 180-degree turn and said she was going to get an abortion. Niall had tried talking her out of it, even calling _his_ mother to convince her, and Eleanor’s own mother, even bloody Johannah who thought her own son was an idiot.

Nothing moved Eleanor.

“You made the right decision,” Louis had told her, standing in the spacious living room. Harry was standing beside Louis; Niall had his hand on Eleanor’s back while Liam was gnawing on his bottom lip. And Zayn was, well, on the other side of the world.

“I’m making the worst decision of my life,” she had told him, her hands wrapping around her frail body.

“You’re not,” Louis said, stepping closer, his arms reaching out and palming up and down her arm. “You’re making the greatest choie that you’ll ever make. Once you get through this, we will both move on, and live our lives without a baby hanging over us.”

“You’re not coming with me?” Her voice was weak, so weak and small that Niall was so furious at Louis for not seeing that his girlfriend did not want to do this.

“I have a meeting to go for, love,” Louis excused himself, “but after, we’ll cuddle over popcorn and _Crazy Stupid Love_ , your favourite.”

It was then that she took a step back, shaking her head slowly. “I came only to see if you’d change your mind, if maybe you thought that keeping this baby was the right thing but.”

“El,” he sighed, hand covering the right side of his face, “we’ve gone through this.”

“I think it’s for the best if I did go without you,” she said, swallowing the bile rising in her throat, “and for the rest of my life as well.”

Liam’s eyes were the first to fly open, understanding the doubling meaning behind her words. Niall then got it: Eleanor was breaking up with Louis. Harry clasped his hand on Louis’ shoulder who was shaking his head at Eleanor.

“ _What?_ Ar-Are you—” He could not say it, he could not utter it but his eyes spoke volumes of acknowledgement. “You’re not—You can’t—This abortion—” He paused, to take a gulp of air through his mouth. “This—,” he could not say the word twice, “—has taken so much of your energy you’re not thinking straight.”

“Don’t do this Eleanor,” Harry pleaded.

“She gets to do whatever she wants,” Niall spat at him.

“Look at him, Niall!”

“Look at her!” he screamed back. “She’s the one getting a bloody abortion while Louis has to do, what, go for a bloody meeting? Fuck you!” The last part was aimed at Louis.

“Get the abortion, and then we talk.”

“I don’t think you understand, Louis, I don’t want to be with someone _this_ heartless,” she said, her eyes shining and lips trembling. “I forgive you, for this, but I’ll never forget.”

“Fine, then. I’ll come with.”

She shook her head. “Niall’s taking me.”

He was not taking her but as of that moment, he most definitely was. And they were out the door before Louis could get a word in, and heading for the hospital. The doctor was welcoming, the kind Dr Chires, who made sure that Eleanor was comfortable, and ready, and sure this is what she wanted.

She nodded. “And I’d like Niall in the room.”

Niall’s face blanched and his eyes wavered. He was not strong enough for this. But looking over at Eleanor, her eyes downcast, her shoulder’s slumped and body dressed in a pale polka dot yellow gown draining her pale skin, he had to be strong.

“Would you like that, Mr Niall?” Dr Chires asked.

He nodded. It had taken the entire day, Niall vomiting only thrice, which he counted as a win. The first time was nerves; second time was when Eleanor was screaming at the top of her lungs, blood spilling between her legs onto the floor, _so, so much_ , he thought she was going to die of blood loss. Dr Chires assured him that it was normal for this much blood, and him not being a doctor, believed Dr Chires. What made him vomit was the smell, the strong smell of bloody, sweat, and a life being murdered. The third time happened when he saw the foetus laying lifeless in a pool of blood.

He was going to vomit for a fourth time but he willed his body, _willed_ it not to and also there was nothing else to come up as he is sure he puked a whole week’s breakfast! He helped her change from the gown, washed her blood-stained body, and held her as she wept painfully on his shoulder when he was cleaning her knees.

She had asked for his phone, as they rode to Niall’s house in London from the hospital, texting her ex-boyfriend that she went through with it and that is the last time they ever talked.  She called it quits and Elounor was over as the fandom came to know. It is a bit ironic, Niall came to think months later, how Louis got Briana Jungwirth pregnant and did not tell _her_ to abort but did with Eleanor. Fucking prick!

 

“Louis can be a jerk,” he commented. “He had no right to tell you to get an abortion.”

She shrugged. “I’ve moved on, Nini. No need for the Speech. We should focus on you and finding your soulmate, probably one who does not have a life-threatening disease so you can at least live to be 78 years.”

Niall laughed. “That’s so specific.”

Their meal comes forth, Niall already salivating from the mere smell of his beef burger and double-chocolate chip milkshake. He has already eaten half of it by the time Eleanor began on her bowl of salad.

“Honestly Niall, do you never stop _inhaling_ your food?”

“I don’t inhale,” he corrected her, chewing happily. “I eat like a normal person. You would too if you didn’t eat that disgusting meal you call salad. What even is in there?”

“It’s healthy.”

“It’s basically leaves and those red stuff,” he said eyeing her bowl. “And that excuse of chicken.”

“Forget living to 78 years. With blocked arteries and lack of gym you’re looking at 49 years.”

“Take that back,” he threatened, though he was joking. He steals THE red stuff in the salad and grimaces as he chewed it down. “I’d rather live to 49 years, a happy man, than 78-year old a miserable man.”

“I’ll never get you to eat salad, will I?”

“It was a relief that you stopped trying. It was getting exhausting.”

“You just gave up is what you did.”

“Oi! I do drink at least a litre of water.”

“When it’s meant it be this whole bottle,” she said pointing to the 2L bottle on their table. “Not half of it.”

“I’m not a water tank, idiot.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes at him and happily finished her salad. The day ended for both of them quite exhausted, full and worth it. Niall plops down on his hotel bed, happy to rest his feet as Eleanor sets up her laptop on the table and chair already working on editing all the videos she has been making throughout their trip of places _Gossip Girl_ was filmed at.

Niall knew he cannot keep avoiding his present, and the cyber world, so he took a deep breath and opened the WhatsApp group. He does not bother reading the entire thread of messages he has missed (about 873 messages) but the last few.

 **LOUIS:** I don’t think that’s a thing Harry. Babies do not smoke, that was a dumb video you saw on Youtube.

 **HARRY:** Well, just be careful with your newborn. You DO smoke and we don’t want your child to be born with lung cancer!

 **LIAM:** That’s Not A Thing, Styles!

 **HARRY:** Because you know so much about lung cancer and all those life-threatening diseases?! Don’t remember you being a DOCTOR, Li!

 **LOUIS:** Aww c’mon Haz. Give me some credit. I won’t be a horrible person for my son. MY OWN CHILD.

 **HARRY:** You better not or else I will sue you for child endangerment… or whatever it is called.

 **LOUIS:** You’re going to sue me? YOU?

 **HARRY:** WATCH ME LOU!!

 **LIAM:** You Can’t Hurt A Fly. You’d Probably Replace All Of Louis’ Cigarettes With Electric Cigarettes And Tell Him To Smoke Outside.

 **LOUIS:** AHAHAH that’s Haz!

 **HARRY:** :(

 **LOUIS:** Don’t be glum, chum. Cheer up! I promise to not smoke – any type of cigarettes – around my baby.

 **HARRY:** Promise? :)

 **LOUIS:** Yes.

 **LIAM:** Happy Now?

 **HARRY:** VERY!!

Perhaps Niall had scrolled down to read the messages. He honestly does not know how the conversation started but he decides to pop in.

 

 **NIALL:** Hey lads! Great day?

 **LOUIS:** I don’t know? You tell us?!

 **HARRY:** Are the rumors true?

 **LOUIS:** Not rumors, Haz, because they are true.

 **NIALL:** Yeah I followed him.

 **HARRY:** WHY?????

 **NIALL:** Because I think we all should forgive each other and get back to being brothers.

 **LOUIS:** WE’LL NEVER BE BROTHERS WITH FUCKTARD. ONCE HE LEFT, HE LEFT ALL OF US, NIALL. HE LEFT HARRY, HE LEFT LIAM, HE LEFT YOU, AND HE LEFT ME.

 **NIALL:** But he had his reasons and they were valid. Zayn was not happy and now he is. He’s more himself and enjoying what he does.

 **LOUIS:** DON’T MENTION HIS NAME!!!

 **HARRY:** WHAT DO YOU MEAN WAS NOT HAPPY? HE WAS HAPPY WITH US, IN ONE DIRECTION. THAT’S JUST TOTAL BULLSHIT HE TELLS THE MEDIA SO THAT PEOPLE WILL FEEL SORRY FOR HIMSELF AND BUY HIS ALBUM.

 **NIALL:** I don’t think he was happy. I mean, you could tell at times he really wanted to quit like when he would lock himself in the bus, writing music and whatnot, but he didn’t because we always told him things would get better.

 **LOUIS:** HE WAS SELFISH NIALL!!! NOTHING MORE TO IT!  AND WHY ARE YOU SUDDENLY DEFENDING HIM?

 **HARRY:** YEAH. WHAT HAPPENED TO “4/4 ONE DIRECTION”? OR ARE WE GOING TO BE “3/3 ONE DIRECTION” NOW?”

 **NIALL:** No. I just followed him that’s all.

 **LOUIS:** Why?

 **NIALL:** I think he’ll be good publicity.

Niall does not know where that lie came from but it has and it was out there and perhaps he should have taken more than a second to _think_ but Louis was asking, and he had to come up with a good lie to get him off his back about following Zayn on Twitter.

He knew, somewhere in the future, that he will regret stating this but in order for One D to be brothers he needed all of them on his side, so whatever lies he had to state, he would state them. Seeing all of his brothers was worth all the lies he was going to spit. So he ventured on.

 **LOUIS:** Really?

 **NIALL:** Yeah. I’ve not been getting as much publicity for TT as I would like and following Zayn has gotten be a boost for my single.

 **HARRY:** You’ve gone up on the Billboard Charts. From #13 to #7.

 **NIALL:** See? It’s working.

 **LOUIS:** I like your plan. Devious and cheeky. HONESTLY, HE’LL NEVER SEE IT COMING WHEN YOU TOP THE CHARTS, WIN ALL THE AWARDS THAT YOU’VE BEEN NOMINATED FOR WHEN FUCKTARD’S GOING TO BE DROPPING.

 **HARRY:** AHAHAHAHA FAAAAAAIL

He locked his phone as the conversation between the two of them continued on how Zayn would fail now that Niall was going to be stealing his shine. He logged onto Twitter and headed straight for _his_ Twitter account.

It was not that different, save from retweeting Snoop Dogg’s tweet about weed that he thinks is funny. Sort of. Eleanor’s words, _forget everybody for a moment Niall. It’s your life, do what you want_ , rang into his brain as he loaded _his_ profile photo. He gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment before tweeting him:

 **Niall Horan @OfficialNiall**  
_@zayn hey bud !_

 

He locked his phone immediately after, not wanting to see _what_ happens because of a mere tweet. He changed into his PJs, brushed his teeth and grabbed a can of Guinness from the fridge.

“Sleeping late tonight?” asked Niall, standing behind Eleanor and looking at her editing her vlog.

“Yeah. I need to put the videos in order then tomorrow it’ll be easier to just upload them.” She turned in her seat and looked up at him gulping down the can of beer. “You’ll need to be up early tomorrow. We’re flying to LA and in the afternoon you have an interview with Ryan Seacrest.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Great.”

Eleanor frowned at him but said nothing. Niall bent and kissed her goodnight on her temple. “Don’t stay out for long or I’ll come and shut down that laptop.”

Echoes of her laughter followed him as he made his way to the bed. He throws his empty beer can into the trash can and snuggles in between crips, clean cream sheets. He logged back onto Twitter to find a new message.

 **ZIALL @ZIALLTEAM**  
@NiallOfficial NIALL BABE! PLEASE FOLLOW ME

 

Turned out he had several messages.

 

 **NIALLER @IRISHCHARM**  
@NiallOfficial did you really tweet him?

 **NEIL HURAN @FEBRUARYDIRECTION**  
@NiallOfficial OMG OMG!! EVERYBODY KEEP CALM! ZIALL IS HAPPPENING

 **KING ZIAM @ZAYNUPDATES**  
@NiallOfficial ZIALL SHALL RIIIIIIIIISE! WATCH THIS SPACE!

1D AUSSIE UPDATES @1DAUSTRALIAUP  
@NiallOfficial @zaynmalik THIS IS ADORABLE!!

 

 

 

There were hundreds, thousands of more of the same messages but nothing from Zayn. He decided to go to his main account and there, there in all it is glory it was. It really should not have made him gasp loudly and speed up his heart but it did.

 

 **ZAYN @zaynmalik**  
_@NiallOfficial hey man (:_

He stared at the message. Stared at the letters, at his name, at the ‘Y’ of ZAYN, and then at the ‘A’, ‘Z’, and ‘N’ as if each letter was just as majestic and dizzy as the name itself. He gushed at the smiley face at the end, at the word ‘man’ at—everything. Somewhere, he knew this was important, it was huge, yet it was a large contrast to the quietness of his hotel bedroom.

 **Niall Horan @OfficialNiall**  
_@zayn what’s up?_

He waited with bated breath for the response. He ignored the various dings on his phone of fans and magazines and _everyone_ losing their nerve over a mere conversation. Granted, Niall, too, was losing his cool, what with his gasps and high heart rate, but it was no reason to be—

He sucked in a large amount of air when he saw his Direct Message having one new message. From Zayn.

 **ZAYN:** Hey. Thought we’d chat here than out there. It’s crazy!

 **NIALL:** AHAHAH so much easier here

 _Why do I laugh in all caps?_ he wondered.

 **ZAYN:** Thanks for the follow (:

 **NIALL:** No problem.

When Zayn takes a while to reply, actually, takes several minutes not replying, he opts for restarting the conversation.

 **NIALL:** Saw your music video for PILLOW TALK. Sick!

 **ZAYN:** Thanks mate. I didn’t think people would love it this much (:

 **NIALL:** What’s not to like? It’s creative, fun, and brills.

 _Brills?_ Niall internally groaned.

 **ZAYN:** Brills?

Of-fucking-course Zayn pointed it out. Someone should literally open the ground so that he can be swallowed by it and not be here, face-palming himself so hard.

 **NIALL:** Something Eleanor says.

 **ZAYN:** Eleanor? As in Eleanor, Louis-ex-girlfriend Eleanor?

 **NIALL:** The very one.

Like before, there was a second pregnant pause between them. This time Niall wondered if Zayn was wracking his brain wondering how Niall and Eleanor were friends (if he were Zayn he’d be wondering the same thing) or if perhaps Zayn is already bored with this going-nowhere conversation.

 **NIALL:** Are you in London?

 **ZAYN:** Nah. I’m out here in LA. I have a cousin’s party that I’m planning for.

 **NIALL:** You and your 1000 cousins? AHAHAHAH

 _Stop laughing in all caps_ , Niall scolded to himself.

 **ZAYN:** haha (: I don’t have THAT many.

 **NIALL:** You have more than me. Granted, we are a typical white, small family.

 **ZAYN:** Small, true. Typical, no.

 **NIALL:** We are so white when we go out in the sun we end up looking like lobsters. And we eat plain chicken with a little salt

 **ZAYN:** aha (: salt makes everything taste much better.

How they started talking about cuisine is beyond Niall but, well, here they were.

 **NIALL:** Remember when you cooked for me and Liam and at that time Liam had his “salt will give you kidney stones” phase so you lied you didn’t put salt but did?

 **ZAYN:** And he said it’s the best chicken he’s ever tasted !

 **NIALL:** AHAHAAHAHA

 **ZAYN:** To be fair, the salt was overpowered by the chicken masala and paprika I added.

 **NIALL:** Idk what it was but the chicken was soft, tasty, and I literally could’ve eaten the entire thing… if the both of you weren’t there.

 **ZAYN:** I see some things don’t change…

Niall did not mean to press his phone to his chest after reading Zayn’s message but he did, biting down on his bottom lip as he squelched his squeals.

 **NIALL:** How’s the party planning going?

 **ZAYN:** TIRING ! I had to look for all sorts of candles. Dija wants all these types of candles I’ve honestly never heard off but here I am, finding them all.

 **NIALL:** Dija?

 **ZAYN:** Khadija.

 **NIALL:** What sorts of candles? Is she having a candle-themed party?

 **ZAYN:** Yeah she is. I bought normal looking candles already. But now I need to buy tea lights, ball candles, block candles, votive rounds… I honestly don’t know what these are!!

 **NIALL:** Oh! They’re really nice. They are candles placed inside glass.

 **NIALL:** Dija has a good eye

 **ZAYN:** Can you send me a photo of one?

 **NIALL:** Better yet I could show you.

 _Oh crap!_ Niall curses. Show him? Show him what votive rounds candles were—

 **ZAYN:** You’re in Cali?

 _Well… that went well_ , Niall thought and earned himself two points.

 **NIALL:** I will be tomorrow in LA.

 **ZAYN:** What brings you to LA?

 **NIALL:** Interviews. The norm. Nothing much else so I could show you

 **NIALL:** If you’d like that is..

 **NIALL:** Don’t want to impose or anything

 **NIALL:** I know that we’ve just started talking and all and since you didn’t know what votive rounds were and I do

 **NIALL:** I thought I’d help you and

***NIALL is typing***

**ZAYN:** It’s fine, Niall. I don’t mind. You’d be a great help.

Niall breathed out a breath he had been holding then took a swig of his Guinness.

 **NIALL:** Good, good. Anything else on the candle party list you need help buying?

 **ZAYN:** No. Just candles (:

 **NIALL:** Ah well. I best go to sleep before El barges in and demands me to be asleep. Early flight and all.

 **ZAYN:** Alright.

 **ZAYN:** Goodnight Niall (:

 **NIALL:** GOODNIGHT ZAYN

 _Why the hell do I type in all caps?_ Niall demanded to his inner self. _Why?!_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENTS & KUDOS are highly appreciated ☺ hope you enjoyed the chapt WHOO


	3. Burning Homes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall and Zayn go about looking for candles... specific candles that only Niall knows where to buy them.

> **You left me. Not realizing until I’ve said my final good-bye and closed the door behind me, that he’s not referring to the past. He’s prophesying our future ~ Alyson Noel**

  
 

Eleanor was updating him on the order of the day once they land in LA within the hour but all he could do was stare blankly outside the tiny plane window.

Lately, ever since he got the idea of reuniting all the boys of his previous band together, he has been retracing his steps back to the moment that One D broke. Going back to the past, he really could not pinpoint _one_ event that could have caused Zayn to leave the band.

It could be anything, he thought as the plane passed through white clouds. It could be that he was unhappy, it could be that he had finished what he wanted with One D and it was time to close the chapter, it could be that they were not enough (Niall positively shuddered at the thought) or simply, he just wanted to leave. Period.

He felt embarrassed, sometimes, that he felt hopeless. He felt hopeless when he read Zayn’s goodbye note on Liam’s bed, he felt hopeless a week later when Zayn still did not return, and he has been feeling hopeless ever since.

Eleanor snapped her fingers in front of his face and he blinked.

“What?” he groaned, pushing her hand away from his face.

“You’re not listening. You have that look on your face, the ‘I wish I had the _TFioS_ love life’ look,” she said, in an accusing tone. He chuckled and turned to face her as she continued with enlightening him with the events of the day.

When things were over, and gone, Niall felt constantly hopeless. The first time he had this feeling, the feeling as if someone had lit his house on fire and he could do nothing but watch it burn. You try to pour water, it does not work. You try everything to quench the hot, burning fire, even pray for an white avalanche but nothing. Instead, you try to get into the house and take anything precious to you but by then it is too late and the house has burnt to ashes.

Niall, as recent as the end of last year, had been feeling as if too many houses were being burnt down and he remembered clearly when his first house was burnt. It was a pure surprise when it happened. He had come home, with a week off from the tour, and the first place he thought of was going home, and just relaxing with the family.

Greg would have been home, engaged to Denise. His mother, Maura, would already be in the grocery store looking for all the ingredients to make her boys’ favourite meals as Bobby would busy himself buying crates of beer and calling _literally everyone_ because his two boys’ were coming home. Rather, _Niall_ was coming home.

Not this time, though. Not this time, he reminded himself as he watched Eleanor’s lips moving but her voice not reaching his ears. This time, when he went home, Greg was missing. Maura was somewhere upstairs and as he walked in, his father was walking out. He had bags stacked by his feet, a duffel bag over his shoulder.

“Where you heading, Da?” he asked, his eyes darting between the stacked boxes and his father’s face. He did not hear what his father responded, only staring at the suitcase by his feet and the duffel bag suddenly looking larger than it did when he met his father at the door.

“I love you,” he had said as he remembered the man that raised him, the man he looked up to his entire life, the man he would do _anything_ for. “I love you, Da.”

“I love you too, pup—”

He had meant himself, asking his father not to leave him but he was weak so instead the asked his father not to leave his mother. “Don’t leave Ma. It’ll wreck her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. We love you, you love us, what’s not simple?”

And in his father’s silence he found his answer. He does not remember when Greg came back home, saw his father’s bags and the yelling started. His mother came down from upstairs and she started wailing, all the while he stood there, still, on the Welcome mat.

Funny thing was, if he cannot trace when Zayn decided he wanted to leave One D, he can almost trace when his father did. When his father burnt Niall’s house down and left ashes in his wake to this day.

“Niall!”

He blinked out of his reverie and it was as if Eleanor suddenly appeared before him like magic. “Sorry, what were you saying?” Eleanor simply furrowed her brows in the middle and mumbled something underneath her breath. “What?”

“I said we’re landing in 10 minutes. We’re technically in the zone,” she said, without her usual cheery mood.

Niall puffs out his chest. “Forget _The Fault in our Stars_.” He looked to her.  “It’s not realistic. I prefer Harry Potter.”

“Don’t we all?” she smirked at him.

“Of course we prefer Draco Malfoy but. Still. Harry Potter has a better love story than John Green’s books ever will,” Niall said with a growing smile. “I mean, how do you explain Ron and Hermione? Or Bill and Fleur?”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “You and all the Potterheads will be the death of me.”

He took her hand into his and held it as the plane ducked down to land at LAX.

 

~ ~ * ~ ~ 

**Niall Horan @OfficialNiall**  
_There’s distance and there’s silence. Your words have never left me x Snow Patrol_  
  
He hit the Tweet button as the limo drove to Ryan Seacrest’s studio for his promotional interview. Ignoring the requests for follow backs, he headed to his DMs for any new messages from Zayn. There are none so he opted to send him one.

 **NIALL:** Morning Zayn !

He waited a couple of minutes, looking blankly at his screen, nothing happening for a while and he logged off and got on WhatsApp. He scrolled down, not bothering to read the 29 unread messages and clicks on the “4/4 ONE DIRECTION” group.

 **NIALL:** LA BABY!!!

 **HARRY:** Wish I was there with you =[ I miss LA

 **LIAM:** I’ll Be There In 24 Hours Too!!

 **NIALL:** Get on a plane you ass!

 **HARRY:** Don’t be mean!! I can’t anyway because I’m helping Gemma with setting up her website.

 **NIALL:** Where do you come in ?

 **HARRY:** I’m QUITE creative, mind you. Have you not SEEN my creative skills?

 **LIAM:** Your Twitter Page Sucks! You Don’t Even Have A Header.

 **HARRY:** Says the one who matches header and profile photo like some Nursery kid.

 **LIAM:** HA HA Harry! Didn’t Know You Were A Comedian.

 **NIALL:** He’s a “raconteur” according to his Twitter status that has also NEVER changed

 **HARRY:** LOUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!! HELP!! I’M BEING CORNERED.

 **LIAM:** Isn’t he driving up to Doncaster?

 **HARRY:** He is. He’s going to see how his mom’s doing.

 **LIAM:** How goes the chemotherapy?

 **HARRY:** Alright. Doctors are hopeful she’ll fight through this.

Sometime in the middle of last year, Louis’ mother, Johannah, had been diagnosed with Leukaemia and it was at Stage 3. The treatment began and it went so well, so well that her health was improving. However, in the beginning of this year, her health began deteriorating yet again and the doctors put Johannah on a more aggressive form of chemotherapy.

 **LIAM:** Of course she will! Johannah is a fighter.

Niall agreed, a hundred per cent.

He closed his app, locked his phone and relaxed into the limo seat, rehearsing in his mind what he was going to talk about with Ryan Seacrest. And turns out, the interview was exactly how he imagined it in his head. Nothing new, nothing moving, nothing shaking happened. He talked of his single, his future plans in the music industry, he surprisingly discovered he had moved up the Billboard Charts to #6, Top 40 (to #13), Top 20 (to #6) and Top 10 (to #2), and several other charts where his single was welcomed with so much enthusiasm.

During the entire interview Niall was itching to log onto Twitter and check his DMs from Zayn’s reply, not answering Seacrest on how he was going to London after his trip to LA and chill with his friends. No, he simply did not care about that.

His heart leaped to his throat when he saw two DMs. He quickly opened them – one from Liam – and read the one from him.

**ZAYN:** Morning N (:

 **ZAYN:** Sorry did not reply earlier. I was asleep.

 **NIALL:** AHAHAHA some things never change.

Niall, at his point, stopped questioning why he often laughed in all caps. But it was something that seemed to have started when he began talking to Zayn.

 **ZAYN:** I am more of an owl-person than an early worm-person.

 **NIALL:** Alarm clocks exist AHAHAHA

 **ZAYN:** (: My phone died

 **NIALL:** “alarm clocks”

 **ZAYN:** I just woke up, give me a break /yawns loudly/

 **NIALL:** Fine, fine. For now.

 **ZAYN:** Are you still up for helping me find those dumb candles?

Of course he was up to help Zayn find those candles. If he was being honest, it was all he had been looking forward to. But he decided to play it casual. As cool as a cucmber.

 **NIALL:** Yeah. Course.

 **ZAYN:** Cool (: Should I come pick you up and head wherever the shop is?

 **NIALL:** It’ll be easier, yeah because I’m sort of staying at a hotel right now.

 **ZAYN:** It is cool. I will drive there.

 **NIALL:** You drive?

 **ZAYN:** I had a lot of time last year after.

Niall waited for the next part of the sentence but realized, after not seeing the typing sign nor a new message popping after the few seconds passed that passed. But he got the meaning and maybe that was all that Zayn was going for.

 **NIALL:** Finally though! It’s been a long time coming!!

 **ZAYN:** It is not that big of a deal. Driving. Though I seem to be spending half of my time driving.

 **NIALL:** To where?

 **ZAYN:** Here and there (:

 _Vague_ , he instantly thought.

 **NIALL:** Well today you’ve got a destination: my hotel.

 **NIALL:** Well it’s not mine.

 **NIALL:** It’s just where I’m staying.

 **NIALL:** It’s Hilton’s.

 **NIALL:** Whoever that is. Though doubt it is for Paris Hilton…

 **NIALL:** It’d be sick if I owned the hotel AHAHAHA

He was rambling and he knew it. But. Oh well.

 **NIALL:** Sorry for rambling.

 **ZAYN:** S’alright.

 **NIALL:** Don’t think I’ve ever meant a person who literally types “s’alright”

 **ZAYN:** :P

 **NIALL:** Most people SAY it, not TYPE it.

 **ZAYN:** Just like how you say it, typing it is faster.

 **NIALL:** Oh crap! You just woke up. Sorry. Let me not disturb your morning routine.

 **ZAYN:** S’alright (HA!). Plus, your small “history” of the Hilton hotel was amusing.

Niall could feel his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

 **NIALL:** Promise when you pick me up I’ll have the proper history of the Hilton hotel.

 

 

 

When Zayn picked him up, a whole three hours and nineteen minutes later, he most certainly did not have the history of the Hilton hotels. Whether Zayn forgot about it completely or not, he never asked and Niall never had the chance to tell him the reason for not researching was because he had been busy re-watching _Harry Potter & Prisoner of Azkaban_.

Turned out Zayn was a good driver. In fact, he was bloody fantastic one. In his Audi R8, he cruised easily down the long highways of Los Angeles, wind blowing through his jet-black hair as the sunroof was pulled back. Gear shifting, the vroom of the car, the smell of leather seats, and faint cigarette and mint from Zayn, made him feel relaxed. Calm, even. For some reason, he wanted to photograph this moment, this particular moment with Zayn’s hand on the gear, the other on the steering wheel, his own face looking out the window at the broken white lines on concrete, and the speakers playing some EDM song he has no clue is by.

“What?” he asked after he felt a light patting on his knee.

“I said if you’d like to change the music you can plug your phone,” he said, with a faint hint of amusement in his voice. Even after living in America for a better part of last year, and having an American girlfriend, Zayn’s thick Bradford accent was still clear.

“Nah. I like it,” he lied. “It’s different,” he added, honestly this time.

Keeping an eye on the road, Zayn reached to the audio and unplugged his phone from the audio, the car immediately falling silent. “Here,” he said holding out the AUX cord to Niall.

“No. Seriously, it’s fine. I love—eh.” He paused, his mouth hanging open. Who, or what, was he to love if he does not know _whatthebloodyfuck_ was even playing? “This guy?” he sheepishly attempts.

“C’mon. I don’t mind.”

“We have such different tastes in music,” laughed Niall nervously. The Audi comes to a halt behind another car. Traffic jam. “You’re more R&B, and I’m more alternative slash country.”

“You sound like iTunes.”

Niall barks another nervous laugh. “Just saying the truth.”

“Well I want to hear what music you like,” said Zayn, still holding the cord for Niall to plug his phone into.

“It’s boring. And sad. And painful,” he said, looking down at the black phone on his lap. Then the next minute it was gone. Zayn was plugging it to his Audi and he swiped left.

“Don’t you have password for your phone?” wondered Zayn, going straight to his Music app. “I’m looking for your last played… Troye Sivan?” He looked up from the phone to Niall. “Who’s Troye Sivan? Am I even saying his name right?”

“Remember the half-Aussie guy Harry couldn’t stop gushing about because he came out and Harry wished he could as well?” Zayn shook his head. “Well, he’s this half-Aussie Youtuber kid who came out some time back and then he made a sick album, _Blue Neighbourhood_ , and it’s too cool.”

“Too cool?” echoed Zayn. Niall simply nodded back at him, eyes on the Toyota car in front of the Audi. “What’s your favourite?”

“I’ve got too many.”

“You have his entire album here so I’m pretty sure you’ve got a favourite.”

“ _Blue_ ,” he whispered. Zayn fumbles with his phone and the song begins to play through the Audi speakers.  Zayn leaned back into his driver’s seat and Niall looked out the window sightlessly.

 _I want you_  
I’ll color me blue  
Anything it takes to make you stay  
Only seeing myself  
When I’m looking up at you

 _  
_ He did not even know he was singing under his breath when he felt the car too quiet for his liking. He looked over to find Zayn watching him carefully, like he was a new puzzle and Zayn could not wait to piece everything together.

“Don’t stop singing.”

Niall laughed nervously, head ducking down. “He’s an amazing singer.”

“I can see why. He’s brilliant. Those lyrics are damn near genius!”

“Really?” asked Niall, looking up at Zayn.

“I’d collabo with him, if I could.”

“ _You?_ I feel as if I’m not good enough for him,” chuckled Niall. Niall would walk across Antarctica to do collaboration with Troye Sivan but for some reason he always chickens out when Eleanor has already typed out his number on her phone and was just about pressing the Call button.

“You’re plenty good, Niall,” said Zayn, fumbling with the A/C. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Changing the subject, he asked, “What made you settle here in LA?”

“LA is the place where dreams come true, innit?”  he answers him with another question.

Niall raised an eyebrow at him. “I heard it’s called the ‘city of angels’. Quite literally.”

“Really?”

“That’s what Los Angeles means in Spanish,” he said nonchalantly. “So, what made you move here?”

“The truth?” he asked and Niall nodded. “The whole break-up with Perrie was brutal. The paparazzi were everywhere. I couldn’t go to the market, I couldn’t drive anywhere, I couldn’t live my fucking life without a camera snapping somewhere centimetres away from me.”

“We got that during One D.”

“It was worse, Niall. I felt caged in.”

“I’m claustrophobic so I know how that feels. Sucky. Sucky, suck, suck,” he muttered, his eyes on Zayn’s hand resting on the gear.

“That’s about it.”

“But you were home with your friends, family, your thousands of cousins and what not…”

Zayn shook his head. “I wasn’t at home in Bradford.”

Niall turned to him, frowning. “But the papers said—where were you?”

Zayn leaned back into his chair, the traffic still bumper to bumper, and dared not to look at Niall. “After I left, said goodbye to all of you, and then my ex, I felt like I said that to my family, too. My Dad thought I was quitting, even after explaining that I wanted to do it differently. My family followed my father’s thoughts, my cousin too, who I honestly thought would be there for me.

“I had no one so I stayed at the house my ex and I were sharing. Spent a lot of time thinking, writing music, avoiding the bloody paps.” He opens his mouth as if to add more but shuts it a moment later. “I was alone, and I started wondering if I really had been alone my whole life.”

“Not true.”

“I had nobody come looking for me, no one cared. I looked back on instances in my life, when I was in One Direction, when I was at MSG, when I was back in Bradford, in school, family events, everywhere and it hit me, it hit me so hard that I’m always off on my own. And it’s cost me so much.”

Niall reached out and cupped his hand on top of the gear shift where Zayn’s hand had been resting. “It’s alright to be alone sometimes.”

“Granted it was fair for the reaction I got I just didn’t expect it from people I thought would always be there.”

And Niall suddenly felt guilty. His heart was being weighed down by rocks of guilt and _pangs_  and—

“Stop.” He felt the pad of Zayn’s thumb on his temple. “Stop thinking. Just stop.” Niall opened his mouth uselessly like a fish out of water. “That was all in the past. I’m fine now, Niall. Promise.”

“But still.”

“Stop Niall. I can see it. The wheels always turning in your head,” he said as he slowly drew circles on the side of Niall’s forehead. “You live too much in your head.”

Niall thickly swallowed, looking out the window. He blinked several times at the car outside his window also stuck in traffic, opening his mouth to breathe in. He feels Zayn holding his hand tightly and—it is just too much. All of it. He leans his head against the window, covering his eyes with his free hand.

“What happened after?” he asked, just to move on the odd tension between them and the soft sounds of Troye Sivan playing in the car.

“So I left and came to LA. Well, it turned out for the best because it’s here where I went on adventures recording my album and all that. Met fantastic people, too. Like Malay, Mike and Ant Hannides, the rest.”

“That’s great,” said Niall, after Zayn did not elaborate on _who_ those people were. “It all worked out, didn’t it?”

Zayn looked at him for a while before the traffic opened up. With instructions from Niall, he pulled up to the candle shop – an _actual_ , large shop solely for candles. Shaking his head, Zayn made his way into the candle shop, following behind Niall.

“I still can’t believe there is an actual candle shop. Like, an actual one,” said Zayn, his voice dripping with chuckles.

“You said it yourself. LA is the place where dreams come true. Some loser came to this country with nothing and decided, ‘I am setting up a candle shop because one day a Zayn fella shall need votive rounds and because he’s desperate he’ll have nowhere to go.’ and voila! You’re here, the shop is here, his dream came true.”

Zayn was laughing by now, picking up a shopping basket, and following Niall. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t think of ‘Zayn’ when he thought of the desperate lad.”

“Oh sure. Let me be mildly racist and say ‘Abdurahman or ‘Mohammed.’”

Zayn playfully rolled his eyes. “Where are these candles anywhere?”

Niall pointed somewhere before him and together they made their way towards them. Once there, Zayn now had the option of choosing _which_ candles to pick, from rows and rows of them, to take i.e. color, smell, texture, even glass type. Honestly, it was a chore for him.

“What does she like?” he asked Zayn encouragingly when he loudly groaned at his _choices_. He looked up, then down, then sideways, then behind him and all he cold see were dumb votive candles. “You have your flavours which are plenty. For example,” he picked up one votive round, “we have jasmine. Or vanilla. Or velvet purple. Even exotic mango. Do you know how hard it is to find exotic mango?”

“What the hell is exotic mango?”

Niall held the candle before Zayn’s nose for him to smell. “Smells nothing like mango,” commented Zayn, his eyes darting to the blue-colored candles.

“That’s cause you’ve not smelled it properly.”

“I don’t know what Dija would like, if I’m being honest.”

“What about her perfume?”

Zayn narrowed his eyes at him, and wanting to ask, _how should I know_ , but then Niall was adding the exotic mango candle to the shopping basket and his brows raised in surprise.

“Like I said, it’s not every day you find exotic mango.”

“You’re hopeless. She’s a sour taste fan. Like citrus fruits and whatnot.”

“Alright. So we just need to find green votive rounds.”

“How do you know?” asked Zayn as they made their way down the aisle.

“Because generally the color of the candle matches the fragrance of it,” he said, as if it was a general knowledge fact.

“How do you know so much about candles?”

Niall barked out a laugh. “This isn’t so much. It’s common knowledge.”

“Well, I don’t spend my time knowing fragrances of candles. I didn’t even know candles had fragrances.”

Searching for light green votive rounds, he said, “If you had spent more time with Harry during the tours than Louis you would know he always had vanilla scented candles, at times jasmine if he wanted to switch things up, _everywhere_ it was hard _not_ to notice.” He picked up one and turned around to give him.

“This?” he asked. He brought it to his nose to smell it. “Lemon?”

“Citrus.”

Zayn rolled his eyes with a small smile playing on his lips. “Because there is a difference.”

“Just like there is a difference between lemons, lime and citrus.”

“There is not,” insisted Zayn, putting the candle in the shopping basket. “I’ll need like. A lot. Around 20 or so.” Both of them add 20 or so candles of citrus votive rounds, Niall adding another 15 just because. And also, just in case. Zayn did not protest. “Is citrus the only sour-like smell?”

“Lavender sort of is? But spice blossom is sour-like. Sort of.”

“Sort of is good enough for me. Plus it’d be weird to have _just_ green candles around.”

Niall chuckled as he walked down the aisle of candles. He pocketed out his phone and took several snapshots of purple candles, aqua-colored ones, jasmine-scented ones, several other ones, all for later for Instagram and one for Twitter right now.

 **Niall Horan @OfficialNiall**  
_SPICY BLOSSOM!! Where’ve you been?! pictwitter.com/IsAaiqoLSFu_

“Please don’t tell me you’ve uploaded a photo of these candles on… wherever?”

Niall sheepishly smiled. “I. Well. Like I said, candles are amazing. I don’t know how you’ve gotten to being 23 without wanting to know about candles.”

“You’re insane, Niall,” said Zayn, smiling at him. He said it in such a way that Niall felt like he was cotton candy. Lilac, delicious cotton candy. Or really, a lavender blossom votive candle. Niall ducked his head and randomly picked up a brown candle. “That looks hideous!”

“It’s spice blossom.”

“No. Dija will slit my throat before I show it to her.”

“How were you assigned only votive rounds and not, like, all types of candles?”

“I am on candle duty. She just wanted votive rounds specifically.”

Taking a look at the full of votive candles shopping basket, Niall said, “I think that’s all we need then.”

“Perhaps more?” asked Zayn and Niall grinned widely. He piled more candles into the basket, that half of it was full, full of green votive rounds. Zayn stopped him when he was satisfied and asked Niall if he wanted to add any candle he fancied (apart from the _one_ spice blossom he picked) and Niall picked up a French lavender-scented candle. Or two.

“Is LA always full of traffic?” asked Niall once they were back on the road again, heading to Hilton hotel.

If he was being honest, he wanted Zayn to drive back to his place (wherever that is)(he makes a mental note to ask Eleanor to find out where Zayn lives)(No, that is not creepy, he told himself, Eleanor has contacts of everyone so it won’t be creepy)(it would only be creepy if _he_ went about looking), but perhaps that would be too much, too soon and it was only recently Niall reached out to Zayn and really, what was the rush?

“It’s almost five-thirty, so traffic is bound to be there.”

“Why blond?” he blurted, once he did not have anything to add onto the traffic conversation and Zayn had been fumbling with the Audi speakers.

“What?”

Niall pointed to his hair. “Why blond?”

“It’s quirky,” he laughed, almost shy and small, almost as if no one ever asked him about why he dyed his hair blond. Or really, why he began dying his hair. “I just. It’s like I discovered hair color for the first time and now I can’t stop dying my hair.” He laughed nervously. “Sorry, that sounded dumb. And stupid but I really don’t have a better reason than that.”

“It’s fine. That’s how I felt when I dyed my hair blond the first time and I even forgot what my true hair color is.”

“You look better with your natural hair color,” Zayn said and he raised his eyes to meet with him looking at his hairline. “Especially now that your roots are brunette and the tips blond—looks sick.”

Niall ducked his head down, a toothy grin playing on his lips. He combed his fingers through his hair and Zayn talked before he could.

“Sorry about earlier when we were going to the candle shop.” Niall bites down on his teeth. “When I said you live in your head it seemed to have struck a chord in you and I don’t know you’ve been a little off ever since. I’m sorry.”

“It’s just something you said.”

“I’m sorry about the head comment.”

Niall shook his head, all of a sudden hating LA traffic for making them have _time_ for this conversation. “It’s not _that_ comment. It’s just—didn’t even know I live in my head.”

“You do,” he said and Niall’s face redden when Zayn’s index finger poked his forehead. “Your wheels are always turning, I can see, and you get this distant look, this melancholy look like you can’t change something that happened.”

“I can’t,” he whispered. He does not know if it was buying candles, if it was Zayn noticing something that nobody had noticed for a while, or it was sitting in this brilliant car, but he found himself blubbering about his past, about people who should not leave, do.

“My father left when we were on the Take Me Home tour. He was walking out the door, literally, and I was walking in and. He had his bags packed by the door. For years after that day, I got obsessed with re-tracing his steps, going back and seeing what made him leave.

“It would be easier to say he loved someone else. That there was another woman in the picture and it was our fault that they weren’t together. It’d be easier if my parents weren’t seeing eye-to-eye, heck, it’d be easier if my mother had some illness that made him leave because then it’d be easy to hate him. It’d be easy to put all these feelings somewhere.

“But there was none. There was no reason for why he left,” he looked up to lock his gaze with Zayn at that moment, “apart from he stopped loving us.” He took a shaky breath, his fingers playing with the hem of his crimson button-up. “The cruellest part was, even as I re-traced my father’s steps, he always seemed like he wanted to leave. Like he wasn’t.” He shrugs, words dying on the tip of his tongue. “Most people have a reason for leaving, whether it’s you breaking up with someone, whether it’s because you don’t love someone anymore, or you’re moving, or I don’t know, people have reasons but Pa did not.”

“You miss him.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re allowed.”

“I don’t _want_ to,” he said with a shaky voice. “When it was around the time of the Midnight Memories tour, the middle of it actually, that I learnt that love isn’t all about mending, and fixing, and gluing; it’s also ripping apart, chasing away, and most of all, love can’t make people stay.” He sniffed twice, then wiped his nostril with the back of his hand. “And I’ve never been home since the day he left.”

“Niall.”

“I can’t go back.”

“What about all those times? All those times we went home for Christmas? Or when we had a break during the tours? Where did you go?” Zayn asked him curiously.  

“Either at Eóghan’s place in Mullingar or stayed in London.”

Zayn stared at him in wonder. He honestly did not know. Except when it was time off for the boys during the tours, he would be the one to completely disappear so he would never know where Niall went for an R&R. But now, _now_ that he thought about it, he genuinely did not know where Niall went when they parted ways at the airport, or train station.

“I’m sorry,” he said, for lack of a better phrase to tell him. He reached out and took Niall’s left hand and held it tightly. “I really, really am.”

“No need to apologize,” he said, attempting a laugh. “It’s all good. It’s been years. It’s just that with everything that happened… after,” he said and in that moment they held an awkward gaze with each before Niall looked to the Mercedes  in front of them and continued, “I’ve been thinking a lot, ‘bout life, my career, my nephew, family stuff, everything really. It helped that I was with El during half of it.”

“How did you and Eleanor become friends?” laughed Zayn, stepping on the accelerator. “It’s probably the most random thing I’ve ever heard. I didn’t believe all the articles when they said you two were bestfriends and all.”

He laughed too but decided not to mention the abortion and all the mess that happened that time because that was not for him to tell. “She said she knew who William Petty was and it was in that moment I knew she was perfect.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow at him, for the dramatic voice he put off when speaking. “I’m not even going to ask but I feel like I have to. Who is William Petty?”

“You don’t know the second Earl of Shelburne?”

“You keep asking as if I know who that is. Who is this Petty?”

“The second Earl of Shelburne,” repeats Niall. “That’s his title. Put some _respek_ on his name.”

A beat passes before Zayn burst out in laughter. Real, loud laughter that Niall for a few seconds watches with wide eyes Zayn laughing, hand tightening on the steering wheel, his eyes tightly shut and white, white teeth on display.

“Put some respek on his name,” said Zayn, in between bouts of laughter. Niall cannot help but let the laughter escape his lips, mostly because Zayn laughing is contagious. “Ho—how did you.” Zayn shook his head, wiping his eye with the back of his hand, his other hand steady of the steering wheel.

“Wasn’t _that_ funny.”

“It’s you. It’s the way you said it that was _comical_.”

Niall simply smiled, watching the cars slowly pass his eyes.

 

~ ~ * ~ ~

 

“Can we watch _TFiOS_ tonight?”

“I thought you said you didn’t think John Green’s stories were real and you were back to being a Potterhead?”

“Yeah. But. I can’t leave my dearest Hazel.”

Eleanor raised a perfectly shaped brow at him. She put the lit cigarette between her plush lips and took a long drag. “Your dearest Hazel?”

Niall nodded, watching smoke escape her lips. “She is my dearest because you prefer that dude who is friends with Hazel. Whatever his name is. And anyway, I want to read the books first then watch all the Harry Potter movies.”

“For what, the seventh time?” Eleanor snorts. “Honestly, one day I will set up a date between you and Tom Felton and you won’t know until you get to the venue.”

“Why would you do that?” he shrieked. “Why would you want to see me make an arse of myself?”

“I live for seeing your generally extra white face turn as red as a lobster.”

“My body turns as red as a lobster when I tan,” he said in indignation. He followed her to the living room of the Presidential Suite. “But when I blush I turn a shade of pink just like Draco Malfoy.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes, flicking the butt of her cigarette onto the ash tray. “I swear I’m setting that date up since you refused the one I was going to set up with Troye Sivan.”

“You will never. Anyway, can we please watch _TFiOS_? It’s not like you need to edit any vlogs, right?”

Eleanor shook her head and put out her finished cigarette. “I’m done. When we head to New York for your Ellen show I’m going to do to Manhattan and add it to my New York series.”

“Don’t people want to see LA?”

“LA is overrated.”

“True. But people want to see _you_ in LA.”

She leaned back into the couch and looked at him. “Are you setting it up or what?”

Niall jumped on the couch, practically flying out of it as he raced to the hotel bedroom to search for his USB stick with _The Fault in our Stars_. As he was crouched in front of the large inch TV, Eleanor told him that his mother called.

“What she want?” asked Niall, his voice slightly muffled from where he was.

“Said I should remind you to call her.”

She could almost hear his eye roll. Maura, Niall’s mother, worried a lot about her youngest son. Granted, she was a mother and would always miss her little baby but _still_. She worried a little more and while Niall kept reassuring her that she should stop worrying, she did not stop.

“She’s always worrying,” muttered Niall, turning on the TV.

“With reason. You barely call her and all that.”

“She talks to you so—”

“I’m not her actual child.”

Niall turned his head at her to briefly smirk. “She considers you her daughter. You basically _are_ her daughter. Think when I introduced you Ma she forgot she had two sons.”

Eleanor laughed, burying her face into the couch. “I am adorable!”

Niall snorted and Eleanor flicked her finger on the side of his neck. Niall, “Ow!” and pats the part where she hit him.

“Call her, Nini. She’s always worrying. Always traveling she never knows where in the world you are.”

If Niall was being honest, he thought that his mother misses him a little too much. He knew he should be grateful, consider himself lucky that he has a mother who worries herself sick for him, but he sometimes felt it was too much. That was not to say he did not love his mother, he really, really did. Immensely. It was just. Sometimes he was glad he had Eleanor for a bestfriend then some of that worry, some of the love, some of Maura can go elsewhere and not all focused on him.

“I will, I will,” he said, and just he always said before, he never does call his mother. Instead Eleanor does, and because Eleanor does, he ended up going home in a few days which Maura was always happy about. It sometimes beat Niall how happy his mother was when he went to see her, not understanding all the smiles and hugs and lots, and lots of food piled on his plate.

He simply does not understand.

“Hey!” he begins, pressing mute on the movie trailers playing on the TV. “Did you ever figure out why you think she stays at that horrible house?”

Eleanor nodded at Niall. “You both have different meanings for Home.”

Niall ducked his head, turning the remote in his left hand. Some weeks back, when he had gone home to Mullingar to visit his Ma, he had asked Eleanor as to the reason as to why she thinks his mother still remains at the house where Bobby left them. He had tried buying her a house, going so far as to buy a large house and furnish it the way he knows his mother loves it (with a woman’s touch from Eleanor’s keen eye for design) but she flat out refused it (now he rents out the house to a Romanian couple).

“What does that mean?” he asked her.

“For her, that house is home. Home where her beloved sons grew up, Home where she endlessly cooked her favourite meals for all her favourite three men on this earth: Bobby, you and your brother, Greg. That house is where she bore love, where she cherished and took care of human beings who are stubborn to not simply sit down at a table and talk everything out.”

“Not going to happen, El.”

“I know about you, yeah. But didn’t you see her face light up like a lantern when she saw you and Greg working out your brotherly differences and now you’re both civil?”

It was true. Since Bobby’s departure, Greg and Niall grew sour with each other. And distant. And it made Maura’s heart sink to see her two precious boys _fighting_ silently between them because of something their father caused. She constantly blamed herself for their fighting, blamed herself for not being able to make them be civil, move _past_ what Bobby caused and be brothers again.

Niall rolled his eyes at the TV, knowing the familiar trailer currently playing. “I can’t believe she threw a get-together because of it.”

“Her sons were finally getting along, of course she did.”

“What about me? What does that house mean for me?”

“Home for you means something different from what your M knows it as. For you, it’s horrible moments of disappearances and departures. That’s why you and your Ma will never agree: she’ll want to stay and you’ll always want to leave.”

“Who knew travel blogs could be so insightful?” he smirked. Eleanor playfully hit his arm before resting her head on the space on his right shoulder. He unmutes the TV just as the movie begins.

Eleanor slips her hand and cups his elbow, shifting closer to Niall’s warm side. “Home is not just Mullingar.”

“You’re my Home, too, El,” he whispered back, like a soft promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KUDOS & COMMENTS are high appreciated ☺☺ [& I think I overdid it with GIFs but *groans* who DOESN'T LOVE gifs? Makes the story look, idk, better?]


	4. Drink To That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall attempts his siesta cuisine...

****

 

 

> **There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”  
>    ~ Jane Austen**

 

 **NIALL:** Are U coming to LA anytime soon?

 **LIAM:** No I Don’t Think I Will.

 **NIALL:** You can still come out though. No need to fly out here to the studio. I’m sure whatever rapper U’RE with in the studio can come to London

 **LIAM:** I Don’t Think I’m Ever Going Back To The Studio.

 **NIALL:** WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

 **LIAM:** I Don’t Want To Sing Anymore.

 **NIALL:** Why?

 **LIAM:** Because I Want To Something Else With My Life? Because Singing Isn’t My Thing?

 **NIALL:** No need to be rude!! I was just curious. It sounds all so sudden.

 **HARRY:** LIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!!

 **LIAM:** I’ve Been Meeting Up With Antonio Conte And Mr Roman Abram And We’ve Been Talking, Discussing, And I Got Signed Into CFC As Of Monday!!!

 **LIAM:** You’re Looking At The New DEFENDER IN CFC!!

 **NIALL:** HOLY FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK LIAAAAAAAAM!!! THIS IS GREAT NEWS!!!

 **HARRY:** THIS IS BRILLIANT LIAM! CONGRATS!! [though AFC would’ve been a better choice]

 **NIALL:** You’re going to be with the Luiz, Ivanovic, the legends!! But why not Midfielder?

 **HARRY:** IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?

 **LIAM:** Conte Thought I’d Be Better At Defender :)

 **NIALL:** Really Harry, Arsenal? There’s a reason you don’t like football H!

 **LIAM:** It Is. I’ve Been Thinking About It And I Don’t Really Have Much Passion For Singing Anymore Like I Did When It Was 5/5. I Took A Long, Hard Think About What I Wanted Now And It’s Football.

 **NIALL:** Football is a calling. I AGREE!! It is mine – I’ve probably put it on hold

 **LIAM:** With Your Fucked Knee?

 **NIALL:** It was fixed, Li!

 **NIALL:** How stoked are you on meeting the team aka LUIZ, HAZARD, FABREGAS & COSTA??

 **HARRY:** Can’t imagine living in a world without Liam singing.

 **LIAM:** How Are You MORE Excited Than Me Nialler?

 **NIALL:** Me too! But now this is a better world. We’ll be seeing Liam run after a ball, playing with legends! Chelsea, no less

 **NIALL:** Shut up Payno!!

 **HARRY:** Why Chelsea?

 **NIALL:** Why NOT CFC?

 **HARRY:** You know Lou is going to want to know why CFC =P

 **NIALL:** That’s because he is for Arsenal. Shitty, shitty Arsenal.

 **NIALL:** Or worse, Man U! *shivers*

 **LIAM:** Ever Since Ferguson Left, Man U Has Gone To The Dogs. Moyes, Van Gaal, And Now Mourinho? Nothing Has Changed.

 **NIALL:** #FERGUSONCOMEBACK

 **HARRY:** You dare tweet that hashtag it will trend! DON’T!

 **NIALL:** He’s a “Sir” Liam. SIR Ferguson

 **LIAM:** My Bad!

 **LIAM:** Tweet #FERGUSONCOMEBACK! I Will Most Definitely Retweet And Support.

 **HARRY:** You can’t do that. Your allegiance is with CFC not MUFC

 **NIALL:** Seconded!

 

Louis came online a few minutes after Liam, Niall and Harry went back to the conversation concerning Liam’s future as a footballer. He told them his jersey number was #4, the amount of arrow tattoos on his arm, and he would be making his first debut on February 4th and of course, Niall and Harry would be there. Harry spoke for Louis saying he would obviously be there, even if it was for Chelsea.

**LOUIS:** HAVE YOU SEEN THE BILLBOARD AWARDS NOMINATIONS?

 **HARRY:** No. Why?

 **LOUIS:** THE FUCKTARD IS ON THERE.

 **HARRY:** What category? :O

 **LIAM:** British Video Of The Year.

 **LOUIS:** YOU’VE SEEN IT?

 **HARRY:** HOW COME I HAVEN’T SEEN THIS??? WHEN DID THESE NOMINATIONS GET OUT?

 **LIAM:** I’ve Just Checked A Link That A Directioner Sent Me.

 **LOUIS:** WE’RE BOTH IN THAT CATEGORY !!

 **HARRY:** WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYY ): ):

 **LIAM:** WE GOT “HISTORY” AND HE GOT HIS OVERPLAYED SONG “PILLOW TALK”.

 **LOUIS:** WE’VE GOT TO BEAT HIM!! WE CAN’T LET HIM WIN AND THINK THAT HE’S ACTUALLY GOOD. THAT HE CAN MAKE A BLOODY MUSIC VIDEO BETTER THAN US!

 **HARRY:** THERE ARE MORE DIRECTIONERS THAN ZQUAD.

 **LIAM:** WITHOUT A DOUBT!

 **LOUIS:** WE WILL WIN! WE WILL HAVE TO WIN!! SIMON CALLED AND SAID THAT WE WERE OBVIOUSLY GOING TO WIN THE CATEGORY.

 **HARRY:** WE CAN’T PLAY IT SAFE. WE DO HAVE TO GET PEOPLE TO VOTE! ASK DIRECTIONERS TO VOTE! GET OTHER SINGERS TO VOTE!!!

 **HARRY:** LIKE, ED SHEERAN IS FOR US. AND RITA ORA. AND ADELE. AND LIAM’S EX, CHERYL.

 **LIAM:** I’m Not Asking My EX To Vote. That’s A Conversation I DON’T Want To Have.

 **LOUIS:** WITH THAT ATTITUDE WE’LL NEVER WIN “BRITISH VIDEO OF THE YEAR”!!

 **HARRY:** Nobody cares about her anyway so we’re good, Lou.

 **LIAM:** She’s Still Relevant.

 **LOUIS:** Where?

 **HARRY:** AND THEN WE HAVE SIA. ARE WE EVEN FRIENDS WITH SIA?

 **LIAM:** I Think Niall Is.

No. No, he was not friends with Sia. The boys always said he was friends with Sia because he went to that one party sometime last year in Lisbon and he happened to be photographed with Sia – except Niall was with his friend Laura at one corner of the photo and Sia on the other and that was how it came to be known between them that Niall was friends with Sia.

 **NIALL:** We’re not friends

 **HARRY:** YOU WENT TO THE SAME PARTY!

 **NIALL:** In that case you’ve got 2502903 friends.

 **LIAM:** Ahhahaha Nialler’s Got A Point There.

 **LOUIS:** ALRIGHT. HERE’S THE PLAN:

 **LOUIS:** IN ORDER TO BEAT FUCKTARD FOR THE BILLBOARD NOMINATION, WE SHOULD EACH GET THREE ARTISTS WHO WILL SUPPORT US IN VOTING FOR US AND THAT AUTOMATICALLY MEANS THEIR FANDOM SHALL VOTE FOR US.

 **HARRY:** Good thinking, Lou.

 **LIAM:** Brilliant Plan.

Niall was not so sure if it was good thinking or a brilliant plan. Sounded a tad sketchy, he thought.

 **HARRY:** Or brilLIAM (;

 **LIAM:** That Will Never Be Funny, Harry!

 **LOUIS:** Who do we have? Haz?

WhatsApp showed _Harry is typing_ and Liam too but Liam’s message came through first.

 **LIAM:** That’s Not Even Fair Because Harry Has Like 29253 People To Choose Form. Some Of Us Don’t Know ANYBODY.

 **LOUIS:** PICK. ANYONE. PAYNE!

Niall had no one, too. He was not particularly close to anyone in the entertainment industry. Well, not close enough to _vote_ for him for the Billboard Awards nomination. Except, perhaps…

 **NIALL:** 1\. Ellie Goulding

Perhaps Niall was taking the piss or he was really serious, whichever one, he typed his ex-something-he-had-a-thing-with as a strategy for winning the nomination rounds. He toyed with the idea of typing Zayn but then he shook his head at the silliness of it. Honestly, why would Zayn even vote for _One Direction_? Or the basic question of why vote for someone else and not yourself?

 **LIAM:** Does She Even Talk To You?

 **LOUIS:** Brilliant choice Niall!

 **NIALL:** We’re still friends. Actually friends, Liam, not like how you claim you and Labrinth are friends.

 **LIAM:** We Are Friends!

 **LOUIS:** You both held the beer bottle at the same time and that does NOT make you friends.

 **NIALL:** Nothing lingered even. You wouldn’t let go of the bottle because you had this dumb awestruck look on your face when you realized WHO IT WAS  

 **LIAM:** SHUT UP! Let Me Think Of Who To Ask!!

 **LOUIS:** Haz, who exactly are you typing because you’ve been “typing” for ages now!

 **NIALL:** 2\. Michael Buble.

 **LIAM:** We Need Someone RELEVANT Nialler.

 **LOUIS:** Yes! Someone with an actual FANDOM.

 **NIALL:** Shut it! Buble has a LARGE fandom! OK I put Macklemore as my number 2.

 **LIAM:** Sick! I’ve Got Nicki Minaj, Juicy J And Usher.

 **LOUIS:** Usher? YOU’VE GOT USHER? I’D LIKE TO SEE THAT HAPPEN.

 **HARRY:** Ed Sheeran, Kings of Leon, Adele.

 **NIALL:** 3\. Selena Gomez

 **LOUIS:** Steve Aoki, Skrillex & Calvin Harris

 **HARRY:** You’ve basically chosen your exes, Niall.

 **NIALL:** Least I’ve got a workable list with a LARGE fandom

 **HARRY:** NICE LOU! Love Skrillex.

 **LIAM:** Since When Are You Friends With Calvin Harris?

 **LOUIS:** I went to his show and it was awesome.

 **LOUIS:** SO I THINK EACH WEEK WE SHOULD USE ONE ARTIST TO TWEET THE VOTING LINK FOR BILLBOARD AND BY THREE WEEKS, WE SHOULD AUTOMATICALLY BE IN THE CLEAR FOR THE ACTUAL AWARD.

 **HARRY:** DO WE KNOW WHO HE HAS ON HIS SIDE? NIALL?

 **NIALL:** Why me?

 **LOUIS:** BECAUSE YOU’VE BEEN HANGING OUT AND GETTING ALL THE DIRT ON HIM. DON’T FAIL US.

Niall felt guilty at his point. Guilty for lying to his three mates about his intentions of befriend with other one mate on the other side of the Ocean. But, he told himself repeatedly, for his plan of his brothers reuniting, a little lying could not harm anyone.

 **HARRY:** I HEARD HE HAD TAYLOR SWIFT ON HIS SIDE.

 **NIALL:** He has no one on his side. He’s just got the zquad

Which, well, was true. As far as he knew, anyway. They were still newly friends and had not gone deeply into their lives but. He still could not help but feel a little guilty at _lying_ about all of it.

 **LOUIS:** BRILLIANT!

 **LIAM:** Simon Was Right. We ARE Going To Win The Nomination And The Award.

He closed his WhatsApp app as _Harry is typing_ showed and headed straight for Twitter. He sent a DM to both Ellie Goulding and Macklemore on, then tweeted Selena with a sly greeting, hoping that the Directioners and Beliebers had moved from _all the old drama_.

He then clicked on Zayn’s DM and sent him a congratulatory message.

 **NIALL:** Congrats on Billboard!

“Are you still not dressed?”

Niall was startled by Eleanor’s voice and caught his phone before it fell to the floor. “You scared me!”

“Why are you not dressed? Your Rick Deez interview is in two hours and there’s horrible traffic today for some reason.”

Niall groaned at her. She was shouldering the door frame to the hotel bedroom, donned in a short jumpsuit with sandals on her feet. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, some falling seamlessly down her cheeks and neck.

“I don’t know why there’s traffic suddenly on LA roads. Even two days ago there was traffic when Zayn and I went shopping.”

“The fans spotted you, by the way.”

Niall groaned again as he walked towards the spacious bathroom. As soon as he had reached the lobby of the hotel earlier, he headed straight for the bar. It was there that he opened Twitter to find several photos of himself with Zayn looking at candles, laughing at probably something he had said, and basically looking a lot like _brothers_. He saved all the photos, like a proper Directioner, and he decided to go to Instagram and post a photo of the spicy blossom votive round.

Zayn and Eleanor were among the first to like. And Harry commented: _Why didn’t you get me one?_ and he replied with a tongue-sticking-out emoji. And a candle next to it.

“That’s good, right?” he asked her, checking himself out in the mirror.

“Well, speaking from a publicity point of view, of course it is. It’s doing wonders to promote your single – and his upcoming album. But from your bestfriend point-of-view, I love it because you two genuinely looked like you were having a good time.”

“We did.”

And that was the truth.

 

~ ~ * ~ ~

 

The interview with Rick went great, spotlessly as it generally always does when Niall goes about promoting his debut single, _This Town_. Towards the end, Rick had asked him what was the last song he listened to and on the tip of his tongue was Troye Sivan’s song, _BLUE_ but. He did not say that. He mostly certainly did not, not when the four of them were on a clear drill on promoting the iconic song, _History_ , because Billboard nomination!

So instead of picking his beloved and cherished Troye, still not choosing _History_ though, he said Macklemore’s _Light Tunnels_. He picked a safe song, one that he actually has listened to in case Rick asks him about the song and why he loves the song, those mundane questions. He really wanted to mention Troye though…

Turned out Rick did not ask about his love for _Light Tunnels_ but did briefly talk of Macklemore being an amazing artist and Niall could not agree more. He quickly added that Ryan Lewis is there as well and Rick laughs, _we always forget Ryan_ , and Niall could not agree more, again.

As soon as the interview was over, there were refreshments to which he could not say no to (and neither could Eleanor after seeing there were numerous flutes of champagne) and he sat himself down, plates of snacks around him and with his free hand, reading Zayn’s DMs.

 **ZAYN:** Thank you. You too, Niall (:

 **ZAYN:** The party was awesome. She loved the candles, the smell and color too! THANK YOU IMMENSELY for taking me to the candle shop.

 **ZAYN:** I slept so late last night. Granted, I always sleep late, but yesterday was too much I am three-quarters asleep tweeting you right now.

 **ZAYN:** I think I have officially been assigned on candle duty for any party or get-together indefinitely.

Niall could not help but chuckle at that. He took a bite of his chocolate croissant and, chewing, typed out his reply.

 **NIALL:** I’m glad Dija had a lot of fun at the party.

 **NIALL:** You ought to start charging for your endless tips on candle 101.

 **ZAYN:** hahaha I will (:

 **NIALL:** YOU’RE AWAKE? I THOUGHT YOU SLEPT LATE LAST NIGHT!?

 **ZAYN:** Tony called and said I had been nominated for a Billboard Award.

Niall did not know who that was but assumed it was someone at the top who Zayn worked with. Or for.

 **NIALL:** Can’t go back to sleep, then?

 **ZAYN:** I cannot ): but I will have a siesta later. 100%

Niall wanted Zayn to bloody invite him over. Or something. He just wanted to hang out with Zayn. Chill with him. Or do whatever. So he typed out a suggestion…

 **NIALL:** I know great siesta cuisines..

Honestly, Niall should not eat and text. Forget the warning ‘don’t drink and drive’ signs, eating and texting is just as dangerous, making you type stupid shit.

 **ZAYN:** What are siesta cuisines? (:

 **NIALL:** I can only show you..

He was cringing inwardly now.

 **ZAYN:** But siesta is for sleeping so how can you have siesta cuisines?

 _Good question_ , Niall thought. Well played, Zayn.

 **NIALL:** Secrets I shall never tell.

There were no secrets, Niall knew that, and probably Zayn did too.

 **ZAYN:** Well, I have never had a siesta cuisine before…

 **NIALL:** Great! I can make you one. I make really REALLY good ones. El says so all the time.

 **ZAYN:** Well, I do not know the connection between Irish men & siestas, but I will try it.

 **NIALL:** Today?

 **ZAYN:** I am most defo not getting out of the house, Niall…

 **NIALL:** Figured that out. I meant I can come over today?

 **ZAYN:** Do you want to?

_YES!_

**NIALL:** Yeah.

 **ZAYN:** I do not know If I will be good company.

 **NIALL:** But siesta cuisine!!

 **ZAYN:** ahaha (: (: sure, sure. Alright. You can come over.

Double smiley faces? Did Niall just win the lottery?

 **NIALL:** On my way.

 **ZAYN:** See you soon.

“I’m going to Zayn’s,” said Niall, like an announcement.

“Again?” Eleanor did not even look up from her phone. “Didn’t you see him two days ago?”

He took a large bite of his chocolate croissant. “Yeah but I’m making a siesta cuisine.”

Eleanor lowered her phone with a deep frown between her eyebrows. “What the fuck is a siesta cuisine?” Niall takes a deep breath and quickly says under one breath how siesta cuisine came about. At the end of it, Eleanor has her mouth hanging, her eyeballs gorged out. “What the fuck, Nini?!”

“I panicked. I just really wanted him to invite me to hang out then I realized that wouldn’t happen. Then I realized that it wouldn’t _ever_ happen, so I invited myself.”

“Isn’t he a huge sleepy person?”

Niall nodded. “He is. He said he’d be bad company but I’m driving there anyway.”

“Using Capitol Record’s resources for personal reasons?” Eleanor smirked at him knowingly. “I dare say, Niall, you’ve become quite a rebel.”

“If Steve is gonna pay to make me comfortable as I promote my single, why not use all that he’s paying for?”

“What time are you heading there?”

“Now?” he replied, but it came out as more of a question. “I’m nervous. Like, proper nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s Zayn. He’s this mysterious lad who’s loud yet at the same time quiet. I don’t—I get nervous around him. Is that dumb?”

Eleanor took a while before replying. “No. Not at all. I’m glad you’re off your ass and doing something you want.”

“I always do what I want,” he told her, puffing out his chest dramatically. “I’m the Irish man. Us Irish do what we please.”

“I’m glad you’re not following everything that fucker always tells you three to do.” She is talking of her ex-boyfriend, Louis Tomlinson. “Honestly, it surprises me how none of you stand up to him. Harry, I can understand because he looks at him like he hung the stars. Liam, because he so badly wants his charm, and you because you want to be liked. Not forgetting, you want all for of you to get along after Zayn leaving One D.”

“Tha—Harry’s part is right,” he began by wanting to defend himself but opted to attack the Harry part of the argument. Eleanor opened her mouth to argue back but Niall said something about wanting to go Zayn’s, _can’t be late_ , and kissed her temple before making his way out of the building and heading to Zayn’s.

Zayn’s place, as it turned out, was not a house like he had previously imagined. He lived in hi-tech apartments and he was settled up at the penthouse. The first thing he noticed were the high ceileings which Zayn took the liberty of decorating with framed paintings and photographs. There were large couches all over, they looked moreso like they belonged in an Art museum rather than meant for, well, getting comfy in.

His eyebrows rose to his hairline at the sight of the balcony. It was _humogous_ , really. It could practically fit eight Range Rovers! He decorated it with a mix of red, orange and black plush pillows all around and a carpet underneath and he noticed shisha bongs lined up on the balcony walls.

“You smoke shisha?”

Zayn shrugged. “Since I stopped weed, felt like I had to find something else.”

“Because cigarettes weren’t enough?”

Zayn responded by rolling his eyes playfully and showed him the rest of the penthouse. He was beginning to understand the theme of the house: black and any other color, really but black was the first color. His socked feet padded the black-tiled floor as Zayn took him round. There were photos to his left, photos to his right, above his head, and the ceiling was decorated with graffiti. He absentmindedly wondered how Zayn got up there, what with the high ceilings.

“I think Ma would faint if she ever saw this kitchen,” Niall said, his eyes not done sweeping the kitchen, taking everything in as much as his blue eyes could. “She’d probably spend at least a good four hours running her hands over everything—sorry, this is sounding creepy. Trust me, I don’t oogle people’s ho—”

“It’s fine,” said Zayn, chuckling lightly. He was donned in loose black sweatpants, a red Flash t-shirt and his black bed hair doing things to Niall’s cheeks, like making them permanently pink. “I was looking for an apartment with a great kitchen and this was by far the best. I found another but it was like 2 hours away from, well, basically everything.”

“This is great,” said Niall with a far-away look in his eyes. He badly wanted to take out his phone, snap photos, and send to his Ma but. But that’s stalker-ish. He was not that close to Zayn, anyhow. He would not understand.

“You look like you want to take this kitchen and put it in your pocket,” laughed Zayn. He had two glasses out and—“Juice? Water?” he asked.

“Beer?” he asked hopeful.

“Bar.”

Niall followed Zayn to the mini-bar where he perched himself on a red stool and hands on top of the wooden  bar. “Are you legit? Like a legit mixologist?”

Zayn shrugged, getting out two medium-sized glasses, straws, and something that looked like a salt shaker but mostly, he was certain, was _not_ a salt shaker.

“What are those?” asked Niall inquisitively.

“Stuff for making cocktails.”

“So, you’re like a professional mixologist slash bartender slash mixer slash bartender—oh! Didn’t I just say that?”

Zayn chuckled, shaking his head and reaching behind the shelf filled with various bottles of black, brown, green, clear, opaque, with thousands of labels ranging from whiskey to soda to… even water. Why Zayn has water in a glass bottle on the shelf, beats him.

“I didn’t even know you make drinks,” voiced Niall.

“I’ve been practising ever since we started the Midnight Memories tour,” said Zayn. It seemed he had all his ingredients and looked at Niall. “What do you want?”

“Y’know when I came over I was meant to make a siesta cuisine,” laughed Niall, his cheeks a deeper shade of pink, “but here you are making me drinks.”

Zayn snorted loudly, his arms spread on the bar. “We both know you made that up. I literally Googled what a siesta cuisine is and no such thing came up. I even went on Yahoo. _Yahoo_ , Niall. No one goes on Yahoo.”

Niall made an elusive hand gesture at him. “Fine, fine. I’m not a cocktail sort of person. I’m a true Irish, just beer. But make me whatever, as long as there is alcohol, I’ll drink it.”

Zayn clapped his hands once with a brilliant smile on his lips. “Great. I’ll start with a Martini.” Niall asked, _just like James Bond?_ and Zayn gleefully nodded at him.

“So, when did you really start bartending?” Niall asked as Zayn began scooping ice cubes and placing it in the silver salt-shaker-look-alike that Niall still did not know what it was.

“It was the first time when we got an off from the tour and we all went home, or wherever we go, and I always immerse myself with spray paints and canvas and just let loose, right?” began Zayn. Niall was amazed at how he concentrated on his tale as he measured vodka and dry vermouth in a tiny silver cup to which he poured into the salt-shaker-look-alike. “I didn’t have them at the time but I had a bottle of whiskey. And that was it really.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I began reading up on simple cocktails to make and I made them, failed a couple of times, got my cousins insanely drunk for weeks on end as I used all of them as guinea pigs for my experiments. Eventually, I became an expert.”

He finished his tale by garnishing the Martini with a lemon peel then sliding the glass to Niall. He looked at the contents in the glass, his hands surrounding it. He looked at Zayn then gulped the drink in three goes.

“Delicious!”

“Really?” asked Zayn, a widening smile on his lips. “Not too much lemon?”

Niall shook his head. “It was perfect.”

“Another?”

Niall shook his head again, handing Zayn the empty glass. “A new drink.”

“No requests?” he asked him, placing the glass in the sink to the far left of the bar that Niall has now just noticed. He felt like he has been shaking his head a lot because he shook his head at his question.

Zayn makes several drinks thereafter, namely Gin + Tonic, the Gimlet, Negroni, and other cocktails that involved gin. Niall drowned one after the other, waiting for the buzz to hit him but none came. He took a photo of each drink, and sent them straight to Eleanor who immediately texted back a crying emoji with _where can I buy him? He could be my personal bartender_.

Niall laughed out loud to which Zayn quirked an eyebrow. “Are you drunk already? We’re not even halfway through my mixes.”

Niall continued laughing. “Nah. I’ve been sending El photos of your drinks and she’s asking where she can buy one of you.”

“One of me?” he asked, confused.

“Yeah, cause you’re insanely good at this and your glasses look insanely amazing on camera.”

Zayn cackled lightly, his hand laying gently on his stomach. “Thank you.”

“Now for the hard stuff. I’m not even buzzed.”

“That’s cause you’re Irish. You don’t get drunk on gin. It’s like water to your blood.” Niall puffed out his chest, chanting, _Irish! Irish! Irish!_ to which Zayn rolled his own, playfully. “Next up is a Daiquiri.”

“A what? It sounds weak.”

“It’s white rum, lime and sugar.”

“Sugar?” gawked Niall and vehemently shook his head. “Nothing with sugar for me. I’ll puke it out.”

“Sidecar?”

“ _Sidecar_?” parroted Niall. “What drink is called sidecar? Nevermind. Does it have sugar?”

“Cognac.”

“Want.”

Zayn went about setting his ingredients on top of the bar. He handed Niall a fresh, yellow lemon and asked him to squeeze it out the juice.

“What do you typically have for breakfast?” asked Niall as he sliced the lemon in half while Zayn measured shots of Cognac and Cointreau and after would pour them into a cocktail shaker (Niall, by now, assumed that was its name seeing as that was its purpose).

“What? That’s so random, Niall.”

He simply shrugged, avoiding eye contact with the Bradford lad. “Just a question.”

“ _Random_ question,” he pointed out but nevertheless answered. “I. I don’t think I even have breakfast because I wake up at one, one-fifteen on a daily basis. But days I do wake up, like normal people, I eat toast and coffee.”

“Toast with?”

“Nutella,” he said as he poured the measured drinks into the neon orange cocktail mixer. “That reminds me, I am out of Nutella. Need to go buy some. You?”

“Anything goes for me. But my mornings lately have been filled with promotions so I have something small like cereal.”

Niall handed him the freshly-squeezed lemon juice to which he poured into the cocktail mixer. Somewhere beneath the bar where Niall could not see, Zayn fetched ice cubes and dropped them into the mixer.

“Who have you found yourself listening to lately?” asked Niall curiously, watching Zayn shake, shake, shake the cocktail mixer.

“Hmm. Rae Sremmurd.” Niall stared back at him, blank, not knowing who that is. “The guy who sang with Nicki Minaj?” Niall shrugged his right shoulder. “He sang _No Type_ and it became an overplayed song on the radio?”

A light bulb appeared above Niall’s head. Yes, he had heard of the song he just did not know _who_ the singer was (Or was he a rapper?). “He’s a brilliant artist,” he commented. Zayn slid the cocktail glass towards Niall. “Mhmm. This is too, too good,” hums Niall as soon as the Sidecar trickled down his throat. “Honestly, why don’t you just, I don’t know, quit and became a bartender?”

Zayn stuck out his tongue at him. “I’d rather sing, thankyouverymuch. Another?”

“Of Sidecar. I think I’ve fallen in love.”

Zayn nodded at him, getting out the usual ingredients and handing Niall a new, fresh lemon from somewhere beneath the bar. “I like his sound,” answered Zayn when Niall asked why he has been listening to Rae. “He sings something I could see myself singing and plus, his lyrics are funny. And, I don’t know, makes sense.”

Niall shrugged, slicing the lemon. “Dunno who that is so I can’t really answer, _fam_.”

Zayn paused, a bottle of Cognac in his hand. “Did you just say _fam_?”

“So what if I did… fam?”

“You’re silly,” chuckled Zayn going ahead with making a Sidecar. “I often find myself listening to a lot of rap, ever since after.” At this point they both know what Zayn means when he says “After” and there is no need to mention March, 2015. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like I’ve been surrounded by Pop and Punk and it’s never been _me_ as such but now, now I get to surrounded myself with Hip-Hop and Rap and it feels like my heart is humming.”

“Yeah,” is all he said.

“I got A.S.A.P’s album yesterday. Do you want to—I think that’s enough lemon.”

Niall slid the lemon juice to Zayn who then poured it into the cocktail mixer. “What were you going to ask?”

“If you wanted to listen to his album?” he asked and it is the way he asked that Niall’s cheeks were now an even deeper shade of pink. He looked sincere, unsure if he was doing the right thing by asking Niall to listen to A.S.A.P. It was ridiculous. This is his penthouse yet it was as if he felt like Zayn was the one intruding.

“Of course. Knock yourself out.”

“It’s just that you’re more of a Troye Sivan-type of person.”

“I listen to all songs, Zayn. You forget Liam is also a Rap fan.”

“Alright. Just, um. See the little screen by the door over there,” – he pointed to the door to Niall’s left. He nodded. “Just press the green button, then press number 7 and choose Music. His album is A-L-L-A.”

“ALLA? What a weird name. What does it even stand for?”

“At Long Last A.S.A.P.”

Niall hummed and pressed buttons. What plays through the entire _mind boggling amazing_ penthouse is _Fine Whine_. The beats are nice, he thought as he perched himself on top of the bar stool with his second Sidecar ready for the drinking, and the weird muffled voice pretty cool as well. As the song plays on, Zayn lightly bopping his head to the song, he noticed that the muffled voice continues and to be honest, he cannot hear _anything_ this A.S.A.P fella is singing (or he is rapping?) but perhaps, maybe, somehow he liked the song…

He drowned the last bits of his Sidecar and set the glass down on the bar. “The only rapper I know is Eminem.”

Zayn breathed loudly through his nose. “He’s great as well.”

“Exceptional, fam,” – Zayn rolled his eyes at him – “He’s a genius lyricist. Those mad rhymes, mad banter, and he’s just extra—in a good way though. Have you heard _Rap God_?”

“Of course I have! I have _all_ his albums.”

“Alright, Eminem Stan. Anyway, he’s brilliant and awesome and that rapping? And for over 6 minutes? He truly deserved that award he won. Think ‘twas Billboard or something else.”

“Congrats, by the way, on the nomination.”

“We’re in the same category.”

Zayn nodded, lips pursed together. “I’m making you something new?”

“Stronger. I’m not feeling anything at all. Like anything with Vodka I’m loving.”

“The Screwdriver?”

“Dunno what that is but does it have Vodka?” Niall asked and Zayn nodded. “Blow me away.”

 

~ ~ * ~ ~

 

Just like he cautioned him, Zayn said he was feeling sleepy sometime around three-thirty and went to bed. Niall shooed him off, insisting that it was all good, _fam_ (Zayn rolled his eyes for longer than normal), and he would occupy himself with whatever. Before heading to what Niall thought was his bedroom, he said, “Mi casa es su casa, or however you say it. Some of us took Italian in high school.”

Niall waited for the shut of a door but it never came so he assumed he left his bedroom door opened. Having already had a tour of the penthouse, he picked up a beer from the fridge, or three, and headed for the large balcony. He took his shoes off before stepping out, and perched his feet on the rail, leaning back in his large bean bag and the LA blue skies making the afternoon perfect.

On Twitter, the buzz of voting for the Billboard nominations was still underway and every other fandom could tell the Directioners were at war between themselves and the Zquad – each fandom outdoing the other. Niall’s “celebrity supporters” were working their magic. Selena Gomez, who had not been nominated for that category, had voted for Niall two hours ago and immediately Louis sent him a congratulatory message on WhatsApp. And one from Eleanor fangirling over _Selena Gomez, Nini!_

Harry had somehow gotten all his “celebrity supporters” a.k.a. Adele, Ed and Kings of Leon to vote for _History_ as British Video of the Year. Not only that, he got other celebrities, other who’s-who in the industries to vote for their nominations such as Fashion Houses, Theatre...

He rolled his eyes because of-fucking-course. Hollywood somehow seemed to fall at Harry’s feet so really, this was no surprise.

He bypassed all the voting buzz and uploaded a photo of the Sidecar cocktail on his Twitter.

 

 **Niall Horan @OfficialNiall**  
_So good I gad TWO of these!!_ _pictwitter.com/safUBw981BNK_

 

He set his phone down on his thigh and properly leaned back into his orange bean bag, looking sightlessly in front of him. Times like these, with free afternoons, he utterly treasured them. Lately, his mornings were filled with interview after interview, talking about the same old same old then the afternoons were either spent flying to a new location to promote _This Town_ , rehearsing for a live performance or more mind-numbingly boring interviews.

He barely catches his breath through all of it.

Do not get him wrong. He loved it. But it was not the _same_.

He was alone now. He no longer had his four brothers by his side as they sat in radio interviews, laughing about nothing. He no longer got to let others speak because now he talked throughout the entire interview.

_“We’re never alone, dufus! It’s just how we feel.”_

Eleanor’s words rung through his head like an echo. And perhaps she was right, but he still could help but shake this feel that had gripped onto him like a stain on a white shirt that he _was_ alone and it scared him a little that the feeling will only go away if he was back. Back to the good ol’times when it was the five of them. He would settle for the four of them, if he had to. Just as long as he was not riding solo.

He deeply sighed and, pressing the second number on his speed dial, put his phone on loudspeaker.

_Hey bro!_

“Hey Greg,” Niall greeted his brother happily. “You alright?”

_I’m great. What about you? What part of the world are you dominating?_

Niall laughed. “I’m in LA currently. The sun’s pretty hot.”

_The sun is hot? Honestly, Ni, if I wanted to know about the weather I’d watch the weather channel to know about LA._

“It’s—it’s LA, Greg. Nothing much to say.”

_Last time you were this vague was because you had something gnawing on the back of your mind…_

Niall can sense Greg inching for information, inching to know what was bothering him but he shut him down by asking him, “Have you found a loophole in the contract?”

_Yes._

Behind Eleanor’s back, Niall called his brother, a Contract attorney, to look into the contract that Max, Eleanor’s former BFF and business partner, signed with her that effectively threw Eleanor out of their blog business, _The Trend Pear_.

Eleanor sternly asked Niall to drop it, citing something vague and lame as _things happen for a reason_ which. No. Niall could not accept it. So he called Greg up, asked him to take a look at the contract and has been working on it ever since.

“That’s good, right?”

_It’s a shot in the dark, Ni. I don’t know if we will even make it far because the loophole is so tiny. Whoever Max hired as lawyers are pretty great._

“Just. Please find a loophole, Greg. This blog was everything to El and it’s not fair to her. She lost Louis, she lost her almost-baby, and now her website, along with her bestfriend… She deserves one good thing in her life.”

_She has you._

“Not always,” he said, sounding regrettable.

 _What’s that supposed to mean? Are you going to_ leave _her?_

“No. Never,” Niall said resolutely. “She’s my bestfriend, practically my sister.”

 _Good. Because she loves elephants as much as me and it’s a rare thing to find someone who does in this world filled with people who only drink, eat and breath golf._ Niall rolled his eyes with a knowing smile on his lips. _We want her around, Niall._

Niall laughed shaking his head. When Eleanor had been officially introduced to Gregory, the two instantly clicked, their love for elephants a strong, strong glue. Niall, Maura and Denise could do nothing but gawk at them talking at length about elephants, all night long, really, and Niall swore that the two did not sleep that night.

“Trust me, if she ever wants to leave, I’ll do anything to keep her.”

_I’m just messing. She’s not leaving. I won’t let you let her run away._

“That’s why we’re doing this for her, even if she doesn’t see it as the right thing, we’ll find a way to make her see it.”

_Denise said she’d also talk to her if we both fail at convincing her. You know she’s going to be pissed at you?_

“You as well,” said Niall, huffily. “Why is it just me anyway?”

_Because she loves me more than you._

Niall could practically hear the wink in his brother’s voice. “You’re older than her, Greg. It’s creepy.”

_El’s the younger sister I never had._

Niall smiled at the phone laying on his thigh fondly. “Isn’t she? Anyway, call me if you get a break through on the loophole?

_Of course. Take care of yourself, Ni. And call Ma, she’s worried._

“I will, I will.”

The sun began to set with Niall still perched on the balcony, his mind far, far away therefore he did not hear Zayn walk through the opened balcony door, greeting him with a groggy voice. Niall tipped back in his bean bag, twisting far too quickly and a cracking sound startling Niall.

“Ugh! This is the bloody ninth time,” he groaned upon seeing his phone screen has cracked. “This is the bloody ninth time.”

“Do you often fall off bean bags?” asked Zayn, amusement evident on his lips.

“Idiot!”

Zayn simply chuckled as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a match box. “Do you mind if I smoke out here?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Watching Zayn shake out a cigarette from his Dunhill pack and lighting it up, he took comfort in knowing some things have not changed.

“I’m glad you still smoke,” he told him genuinely. He gazed at him as Zayn blew the smoke in the late afternoon air, closing his eyes and Niall pocketed this information, pocketed the fact that Zayn cannot live without his cigarettes.

“Most people—actually a lot of people most certainly do not say those words. More often they say, ‘Those things will kill you!’ or ‘Do you want cancer?’ or ‘Why do you smoke? It’s disgusting!’”

“To each his own.” Zayn raised a brow at him. “What?” he asked, laughing slowly. “I mean it. But it’s just that—you. Every time you take a drag, you do this thing with your face.” Zayn was looking at him intently, all focused, his cigarette burning between his fingers beside his knee. “It’s like you’re—relaxed. Calm. Like you’ve finally found a peace of mind.”

Zayn looked at him for a while more, cigarette now dangling between his lips, occasionally smoke blowing in the air through his nose, still not a word uttered.

“No one’s ever said that before,” he murmured, his head ducked down at the cigarette stick between his fingers.

Niall’s nervousness kicks in at that second, his randomness takes over and he asked, “What is the color of your room?”

Zayn blinked up at him. “What?”

“The color? What is it? I’ve seen almost all the rooms of your penthouse so I’m just curious about your room like.” He stopped as Zayn looked as if he was having a staring match with his nose. “You don—”

“It’s—you can see it, if you like.”

Niall nodded. Zayn squashed his the butt of his cigarette against the balcony railing and headed inside, closing the door behind him. Niall walked down the white walled corridors with random photographs of his family – some with Doniya, others with all of them, one with his father, and plenty with his mother.

“Your family looks effortless,” he commented passing a large, black and white photograph of his parents together, perched on what looked like a stone. Zayn stopped to see which photograph Niall was looking at. A slow smile spread on his lips and his eyes were lidded with nostalgia and an _ache_ of missing his parents immensely.

“They were on the beach in Iceland. Sort of a family holiday and Walihya took a photo of them. Honestly, everything at that moment was perfect, including them, and I’m glad it came out on print.”

He said all this looking at the photograph, then blinked and whatever moment was there, Niall knew it went and he turned on his bare feet, continued walking to his bedroom. Zayn reached to the door knob of his bedroom but Niall let out a not-human screech that startled Zayn.

“Are you alright?”

Niall quickly nodded. “I just. Um. I—I need to go to the, uh, home—hotel.” He looked at Zayn heavily. “Where is the door… again?”

“You’re leaving?” he asked him, Niall hearing surprise in his voice.

“Yeah. Forgot about my early interview tomorrow,” he lied, attempting an excuse to get out of the house. He did not know what came over him right there and then but he needed to _leave_ immediately. “I ca—can call you? Like, we can talk on phone instead of Twitter. Constantly.”

Zayn nodded holding out his hand for Niall’s phone. He taps his number onto his phone, saving himself as _NIAZ_ and handing him back his phone.

“Niaz?”

“My name backwards.”

“I thoug—” He stopped. The small fact that Zayn’s actual name is Zain not Zayn coming to him just then. “I don’t know why you changed it to a ‘y’. The ‘i’ is still awesome.”

Zayn shrugged his shoulders. “I like it with a ‘i’, too.”

“I’ll call you,” said Niall heading to the door, and he heard the soft pads on the carpet floor following him. Alright, he was lying. He did not hear but he _hoped_ that Zayn was following him.

“Um. Thanks for the drinks,” began Niall, standing before the door. “I really had a good time, it’s just that I don’t want to be groggy tomorrow and El screaming down my ear for not sleeping early.”

Zayn smirked. “She does?”

Niall huffed. “Always. I think she loves it, secretly dragging my feet out of bed. Sometimes literally.”

“I also had a good time. Sorry for sleeping, though.”

“I get it. Sometimes it feels like I never sleep myself,” he said, his voice slightly strained but then he lit up just as quick and told Zayn he would text him so that he can have his number.

“Cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a Chelsea fan, just so we're all on the same page!  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter ☻ and KUDOS & COMMENTS are welcomed - both good & bad - and will try to upload FASTER than my slow updates /=


	5. Things That Stop You Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn and Niall talk of what-could-have-beens and later, Jawaad's birthday party which does not go swell for Niall...

> **I swear I’ve got three lives, balanced  on my head like steak knives, I can’t tell the truth about my disguise ~ Frank Ocean**

“Did you know that Frank Ocean is the one who sang _Bad Religion_?”

Eleanor looked up from her laptop to Niall sitting on the couch next to hers, scrolling down his phone and munching on Doritos. Niall is oblivious to Eleanor’s surprise stare, too busy munching on his Dorito chips.

“Since when do you listen to Frank Ocean?”

“Since forever.”

Eleanor snorted and turned her attention back to her laptop, doing the finish touches to her next vlog entry onto her blog: _Where Are We Going, El?_ (Eleanor did not actually come up with the name. Niall and Eleanor were drunk one night and she had been looking for blog names for her completely new blog. Drunkenly, Niall typed ‘Where Are We Going?’ onto the space box and he laughed, ‘That’s what I asked Mark when we were on tour.’ The following morning, the blog was up, the title officially what he typed and by then it was too late to change it.  Happy endings, anyway, because her blog picked up really, really fast.)

“You don’t listen to Hip-Hop.”

“Do too. Always been a fan of Beyonce’s husband.”

“Jay Z.”

“Yeah, what I basically said.”

“You’ve always been a fan of _99 problems_ ,” she corrected, her fingers moving simultaneously on the keyboard. “You don’t even know 5 of his songs.”

Niall finally looked up from his phone. “Do too.” He goes ahead to name any five Jay Z songs, and of course _99 problems_ is on the list. “See! Told you I’m a fan.”

“Why are you listening to Frank Ocean? Does he have a new album?”

“Actually yeah, he does. But that’s not why. Zayn sent me his _channel ORANGE_ album and it’s really awesome, actually. Like, holy shit, how have I not been listening to Ocean this whole time?”

Eleanor snorted, again. “You’re becoming close with Zayn, I’m seeing.”

Niall shined, all teeth smiling and crinkles by his eyes. “We are. He invited me to his, like, 500th cousin’s party on Thursday. Can you come?”

“Nah. This is your thing with Zayn. Besides,” she added once Niall began to open his mouth, most likely to insist that she should _still_ come and _Zayn won’t mind, obvs_. “I’ve got to get inspiration for my next blog post and I can’t do that in a room with you drinking down everything Zayn makes behind the bar.”

“Not my fault his drinks are too, too good. Plus he’s good company.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?” he asked, scrolling down his phone, his teeth grinding on a new batch of Doritos.

“You seem to be all about Zayn nowadays. It would explain your sudden interest in, what did you say, this century’s greatest artist? You barely knew Frank _last_ _week_.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “I’ve always known Frank. Did you forget I have Liam as a friend? Besides, I only asked if you knew the song, not why I’m a fan of Ocean.”

Eleanor smiled, rolling her eyes at him in a friendly manner. “Yes, of course I know the song.”

“It’s great yeah. Let me text him,” he said, his voice muffled by food in his mouth. “Love the songs,” he spoke what he typed, “Especially _Bad Religion_ , _Super Rich Kids_ , _Lost_ and _Pyramids_.” He looked up from his phone. “Do you think it’s racist, or whatever, that I said _Bad Religion_ is one of my fav. songs?”

“How is it racist?”

“Because Frank says an Islamic phrase and Zayn’s Muslim and he might think I like the song because of the Islamic phrase.”

Eleanor levels him with a look. “Don’t be an idiot, Horan! He doesn’t think that way. And that’s not racist. Religionist, maybe? I don’t know, really. What phrase does he say?”

“Allahu Akbar,” he replied as if reading from his phone. “Zayn says it means ‘God is the greatest.’ He says he loves the song too, and _Super Rich Kids_ is his fav as well. We have so much in common!” Eleanor rolled her eyes. She shuts the laptop and plopped down beside Niall on the couch. “Do you think I should recommend someone for him to listen to?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He recommended _channel ORANGE_ for me and I’ve not given him anyone.”

“Doesn’t he know about your huge crush and fascination of Troye?” Eleanor leaned into Niall’s warm side. “And he didn’t freak out like Liam did that one time and threatened to tweet Troye about your obsession.”

“I’m naïf aofef,” Niall huffed, his mouth full of Doritos.

“What the fuck have you just said?”

“I’m not obsessed.”

Eleanor scoffs on his shoulder. Niall said nothing, as he logged on Twitter. He clicked on the Create New Tweet icon and typed his lyrical tweet and pressed send.

 **Niall Horan @OfficialNiall**  
_Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends x Frank Ocean_  


“Did you just tweet a Frank Ocean lyric?”

“I wanted to tweet something like,” he picked up his phone and read directly from it, “p _urchasing crappy grams with half the hand of cash you handed / Panicking, patch me up_ but then I realized I have no fucking clue what it means so. Tweet something you know, y’know?”

 “You’re hopeless.”

“Am not. Zayn liked my tweet just now. Clearly whatever I’m doing is working.”

“I’m glad you two are friends and you got off your ass and did something about this whole hostility between the five of you.”

“Me too. Like.” He leaned the back of his head and a flashback of Zayn pouring Vodka into a mixer causing a smile to spread on his lips. “He’s Art.”

“Art? What are you, a poet Nini?”

“Anyone who passes English is a poet.”

“But Art is something you look at.”

“That’s not Art. Well, not to me. Me thinks Art is something that disturbs you, something that rips the floor underneath your feet and makes you fall. He’s that, El, and I don’t know, he’s ripped the floor from underneath me and I feel like I’ve dived into a large body of water and I can finally breath.”

“He makes you feel alive?” she asked, her voice low and soft.

“Something of the sort. He disturbs me, shakes me, in a good way. All in good ways.”

Eleanor looked at him for a moment, as if studying the number of eyelashes he has. She was trying to understand how one can stand to be with someone who makes you feel as if you were drowning. How Niall can feel this about Zayn, as if he was under water and still somehow feeling alive when, really, he should feel as if he was _dying_!

“Breathing under water, you say?” she asked, testing the theory on her lips and her head.

“Art.”

 **~ ~ * ~ ~**

**HARRY:** CONGRATS NIALL ON ELLEN!! YOU WERE HILARIOUS, WITTY & A RIGHT IRISH CHARMER!

 **LIAM:** What A Craic Time You Had With Ellen!!

Niall scrolled down past the congratulatory messages.

 **HARRY:** WE’RE THROUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!! IT’S DOWN TO THE WIRE NOW!!

 

Niall did not know what he was talking about then it came back to him in an instant: the Billboard nominations. Now that it was, to Harry’s words, down to the wire, each of them had one artist left to “support” them, that is, get the assigned artist to tweet the voting link for Billboard which would automatically lead to even more votes.

As long as One Direction was ahead of Zayn, that was all that mattered to Louis, Harry and Liam. Niall had Ellie Goulding left, Harry had finished all his artists (Ed, Adele and Kings of Leon) and now had three extra (because he is Harry _mofo_ Styles), Liam had Usher left (which Louis, and to be fair him as well, did not see Liam convincing Usher to vote for them for Billboard), and lastly Louis who had Steve Aoki.

 

 **LIAM:** FINALLY!!! WE’RE STILL AT NUMBER 1, LIKE ALWAYS!!

 **HARRY:** ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

 **LIAM:** I’m Super Stoked About This. Probably More Stoked Than My Premier Match At Chelsea This Weekend.

 **LOUIS:** CHELSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEA!! Do we have to be CFC fans now because you’re a Chelsea player?

 **LIAM:** YES! Is That Even A Question, Louis????

 **LOUIS:** It seems useless. I mean, CFC could drop to the relegation zone and you’d expect us to still be proper fans of CFC.

 **HARRY:** It’s called support, Lou, look it up!

 **LIAM:** Yeah, Traitor. Can’t Be Here For The Good Yet Leave When It’s Bad.

 **HARRY:** What Payne said!!

 **LOUIS:** Why are you defending him? It’s usually me and you, Haz *insert crying emoji*

 **LIAM:** Whatsapp Has The Emoji No Need To TYPE Out The Emoji, Louis

 **LOUIS:** I wanted to.

 **HARRY:** He probably could not find the emoji button.

 **LIAM:** He’s Not That Thick!

 **LOUIS:** I’m right here!

 **HARRY:** You’d be surprised.

 **LOUIS:** We’re going out of TOPIC! FOCUS: it’s Billboard this week. Actually, we have only FOUR days for voting and we’re FOUR.

 **HARRY:** Seems so close!!

 **LOUIS:** For the next four days, including today, we’re going to get our “friends” AKA Steve Aoki  & Little Mix for me.

 **LOUIS:** Liam has USHER (ha! As if)  & G-Eazy. Hazza has The Internet and Jessie J. Niall has Ellie Goulding. One more, Ni?

If Niall was being honest, he did not. Plus, he could not arsed to find a new artist to help in their Billboard voting process. Their fandom was huge, _very_ huge, them Directioners, and he thinks that Louis, and the rest, are taking this too seriously.

 **HARRY:** I got Miley Cyrus to tweet the voting link earlier.

 **LIAM:** How The Fuck Do You Know The Internet?

Niall was wondering the same thing. In fact, he was wondering who is _The Internet_?

 **LOUIS:** Haven’t you learned anything, Li? HARRY KNOWS EVERYONE IN THIS INDUSTRY!! I stopped questioning a long a time ago.

 **LIAM:** But Who The Fuck Is The Internet? Are They Legit?

 **LOUIS:** Yeah. Some band from LA… or something something. Wikipedia them!

 **HARRY:** They’re amazing. Listen to their “Ego Death” album!

 **LIAM:** No Thanks. Can’t Be Bothered.

 **LOUIS:** How’s your talk with Usher going, Payno? Is he going to tweet? If he even knows YOU EXIST?

 **HARRY:** HAHAAHHAHA!!

Niall could not help but laugh because he, too, did not believe Liam could get Usher Raymond to tweet his support. Or really, get a conversation out of Usher. _Usher!_

 **LIAM:** Wait And See, Lads, I’ll Get Him To Tweet The Voting Link. WATCH THIS SPACE!

 **HARRY:** The sad fact is that we know you can somehow get G-Eazy to vote but not USHER! He’s like, untouchable in the industry. He’s THAT important.

 **LOUIS:** If Hazza says so, it must be true. He’s our guru for the industry, Liam.

 **LIAM:** I’ll Let The Tweets Do The Talking!

 **LOUIS:** And Niall has gotten MØ to tweet a link. Just gotten a notification on my phone.

Niall grinned at his phone then. He does not really know MØ, in fact, he barely knows her. They met at some party, were seen in the same photo for some Rolling Stone article and just like was the case with a lot of instances, everyone thinks they are friends.

 **HARRY:** How does Niall know MØ?

 **LIAM:** Remember the Steve Jane’s party? Sometime last year in September? Or October?

 **LOUIS:** Who cares how they met! We’re getting V.O.T.E.S!

 **HARRY:** Were you able to get Little Mix, Lou?

 **LIAM:** He Should Have. Little Mix Are On Our Side After The March 2015 Fiasco.

 **LOUIS:** PERRIE & I ARE CLOSE! OF COURSE SHE’D SUPPORT US! Well, she said she’s voting for us only because “Hair” did not make it to the category of Best British Video.

 **HARRY:** She’s a darling!

 

For some reason, Perrie Edwards – and anything _her_ related – grossed him out and—he just did not like her. There was no explanation, really. No deep reasoning, no profound explanation, nothing she outright did to him, or people that he cared about (if Zayn did not count), but he just did not like her. So he scrolled down to where the conversation ended.

 

 **NIALL:** Ellie said she’ll tweet the vote tomorrow.

 **HARRY:** You’ve been quiet nowadays Niall. What’s wrong?

 **LIAM:** Spending All Your Time Tweeting The Fucktard?

 **NIALL:** Zayn and I don’t even talk that much.

 **HARRY:** Then what’s the point of using him for publicity if you two don’t talk that much?

 **LIAM:** Yeah! Aren’t You Meant To Be Flooding His Twitter Feed With Dumb Tweets?

 **LOUIS:** AGREE WITH BOTH OF THEM! YOUR PUBLICITY STUNT IS WEAK NIALLER!!

 

Niall groaned inwardly, knowing that this was a lie. It was all a lie! He left them on Read, opting to take a small break from what he felt was going to be a lecture from them. He walked to the mini-fridge near the door to his hotel room, and walked back and plopped on top of his King-sized bed. It was his day off and he would be most likely be spending it in bed.

Almost certainly, actually.

Instead of going back to the WhatsApp group, he opens Zayn’s WhatsApp message instead (he had gotten his number several days ago).

 

 **ZAYN:** Morning N (:

Even with emojis and all that, Zayn still opted to use THAT emoticon. If Niall sank into the bed, like melted caramel, no one will ever know.

 **NIALL:** YOU’RE UP EARLY!!

 **ZAYN:** It’s almost one. Please don’t tell me you’re waking up now. You’re becoming me!

Here, Zayn added the tongue-sticking-out emoji with both eyes closed.

 **NIALL:** It’s my off day. Leave me alone. Plus, El is out on her vlogging escapades and she wanted to leave at fuck o’clock.

 **ZAYN:** What time?

 **NIALL:** FUCK O’CLOCK!!

It took a moment before he replied the time in which Niall was already three-quarters done with his can of Guinness.

 **ZAYN:** Is your fuck o’clock the same as mine?

 **NIALL:** Mine is 4. What’s yours?

 **ZAYN:** Anything before 10. Ha!

 **NIALL:** You’re honestly hopeless Zee!

Niall, ever since he started this friendship thing with Zayn, had been looking for a nickname that he can use to call Zayn. So far he had: Z, Zay, Zen (this did not go down well)(Eleanor smacked the back of his head when he asked her opinion on it), Ni (this was a short form of ‘Niaz’, he argued, but Zayn said that it looked as if he was talking to himself), and now Zee.

By the time he threw the empty beer can, got another, Zayn had replied.

 **ZAYN:** Zee? You’re getting worse at these nicknames.

 **NIALL:** I’m getting better. Your name is hard to find a SHORT form for it.

That hasn’t been used yet.

 **ZAYN:** How about ‘Zayn’? I hear it’s different, not been used, and that’s my name as well. Did you know?!

Niall rolled his eyes. Honestly, was Zayn serious? Trying something… something he did not even know, he waited a while before replying. In the meantime, he went ahead and replied to Deo, Willie, his Ma (asking when he will come to Mullingar for a visit), Selena, Michael, Eleanor (updating him on her vlogging), Laura, Josh… until he got antsy and replied to him.

 **NIALL:** But everyone calls you Zayn…

 **ZAYN:** Alright. Fine. We can work with Zee for now. 10% for creativity, BTW!

 **NIALL:** As if you have a sick nickname for me…

This time, the reply was almost instant!

 **ZAYN:** Course I do.

 **NIALL:** Well, let’s hear your suggestions…

Niall face palmed himself. Why is he typing out ellipses? _Why_ is he typing them? Why is he being weird!?

 **ZAYN:** Better yet, I could tell you instead of typing them.

Niall’s heart dropped to his stomach.

 **NIALL:** You could?

 **ZAYN:** Yeah. If you’re not busy.

His heart, and stomach and everything internally, dropped to his wacky knees. Zayn wanted to come over? Now? He burped just then, his mind frozen in time. Zayn wanted to come over?! His head spins fast, analysing his hotel bedroom, checking it is orderly.

 **NIALL:** Sure. Now?

He asked, for good measure. He got off the bed, donned in only sweatpants, and walked into the main area. He was internally, and forever, grateful that Eleanor was generally a clean person and therefore the mess of empty pizza boxes are gone, as well as all the beer cans he had been (missing by a mile) hitting the trash can. And left the large window open.

A ding on his phone is heard.

 **ZAYN:** If you’re not busy…

 **NIALL:** No I’m not. I was just watching Harry Potter.

 **ZAYN:** Still a fan, I see?

 **NIALL:** HARRY POTTER SAVED MY LIFE! IT’S THE MOST PERFECT BOOK IN THE ENTIRE WORLD! J.K ROWLING IS A GENIUS ON EVERY LEVEL.

 **ZAYN:** Potterheads are honestly scary.

 **NIALL:** Because we can do magic!

 **ZAYN:** You’re impossible. Are you still at the same hotel?

 **NIALL:** Yep. Hilton. Can you come in the afternoon?

 **ZAYN:** It’s 1:03PM

 **NIALL:** HAHAHAHAHA

 **NIALL:** I meant like from 2:30PM or summat. I haven’t showered yet…

 **ZAYN:** You don’t need to just because I’m coming over. Just continue what you were doing?

 **NIALL:** I smell like yesterday’s pizza and Guinness.

 **ZAYN:** I love pizza (:

 **NIALL:** Silly. Come over anytime from 2:00, alright?

 **ZAYN:** Sure. I’ll give you an extra 1 hour then.

 **NIALL:** You’re the diggity.

 **ZAYN:** Ha! Course I am (:

 

 **~ ~ * ~ ~**

 

Now that Zayn was going to be here in a few – _an hour at most_ , he had texted – he immediately called up room service and ordered a thorough cleaning of his Presidential Suite. As the several cleaners were doing their thing, Niall flipped through his movie collection to see if he had any “Hip-Hop” movies, anything that screamed ‘tough’, ‘gangsta’, anything that was not him, and was surely Zayn. He, for some odd reason, found _Dope_ on his laptop and he knew for sure that it was part of movies that Eleanor downloaded that she has never gotten round to watching. Yet. (Just like the other 46 movies still sitting round on his laptop waiting to be watched).

As he poured snacks into large silver and dark blue bowls (another call to the Kitchen), the obvious Doritos and some cookies, he wondered if he should be playing some music in his hotel room??

Walking to the living room, he placed the bowls on top of the glass table and headed back to the kitchen. He was going for ‘chill’ meaning that if Zayn walked in through the blue door, he should think Niall was chilling and not, well, not what he was doing now. Panicking.

The cleaners were done in a record 20 minutes and the place smelt clean – too clean if he was being honest but Zayn would be here any minute, and he did not look casual, and he needed to do his _hair_.

After deciding to put music on (some A$AP, some Rae Sremmurd), throwing on his greatest (and clean) loose red shorts and a shirt with a four-leaf clover on the front (because Ireland), he was ready to “chill” with Zayn, not forgetting his Adidas socks with the weed symbol on them. Keeping up the ‘gangsta’ appearance came easy to him and it sort of alarmed him.

And he waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

He un-paused _Dope_ on wherever he paused it to look as if he had watched a little bit of it but not too much of when Zayn would ask, _what are you watching?_ and he would casually answer, _it’s called Dope_ and then he would press Play and the movie would continue.

Casual.

He decided to _actually_ watch it as he waited for Zayn to arrive. Six minutes in, the movie was actually quite interesting, if he was being honest, and he brought the bowl with the double chocolate chip cookies to his chest, drew his knees up, and focused on the movie.

Just then, there was a knock on the hotel door. Niall started, toppling some of the cookies on the carpet. He grabs the three, four cookies off the floor, wiping off the crumbs on his Irish shirt, and throws them in the bin before heading for the door.

Zayn has a small smile on his lips when Niall opens the door wide. He is dressed in black ripped jeans with black boots, a trippy, graphic shirt and on top was a black leather jacket. Niall’s eyes widen just lightly as the sight of Zayn’s soft hair. Soft, soft black hair that flopped over his forehead and eyebrows and it did funny, melting things to Niall’s stomach, and he has to look away before doing something awkward as combing his fingers through Zayn’s hair.

“Come in, come in,” he said, snapping himself out of his trance. Zayn grinned as he walked in and Niall only noticing that he was carrying a bottle of…

“Whiskey,” he supplied, raising it, “thought you’d only have beer.”

“Good call because I do only have beer, Guinness to be specific,” laughs Niall.

“I, uh, want to apologize in advance for any pictures you might see.” Niall blankly looked at him, after shutting the door. “I think a fan spotted me and will post it.”

“No need to apologize, Zee,” said Niall, in his jolly mood. “It’s all right if fans know where you were, isn’t that all about friendship and whatnot?”

Zayn shrugged. “I suppose. Are you listening to Rae?”

This was Niall’s part, this was his time to play it casual.

“Eh,” he said, casual long forgotten, “oh yeah, love it. Love his album too.” Niall had no idea what Rae’s album is. Actually, it is _Rae Sremmurd_ because Niall was not that acquainted to his music. “Great tunes.”

“What’s your favourite?” asked Zayn, following Niall to the kitchen.

Niall could physically feel water dripping down from his hairline. “This one,” he answered and hoped that that was enough. He strained his ear to listen for some words, some lyrics from the song but he only got snippets:

_…I’m just livin’ life_

_…I play full court…_

_…when you shopping, dog?_

(Niall knew he heard ‘dog’ but 10-out-of-10 he knew it was wrong. He heard wrong. He was almost certain it was “dawg.”)

_…make a flick… camera…_

_Wanna be Kim Kardashian… like a bachelor._

Putting things into perspective as he takes out two glasses from the cabinet, Niall thought he should have put a Hip-Hop song he could hear the words to. And he does not know why he thought of Nicki Minaj first. She is worse than this Rae Sremmurd lad.

“Me too,” grinned Zayn. “I think I wanna do a cover of this song. I already met up with this sick mate and he said that we should. I’m pretty stoked.”

Niall slaps him on his back. “That’s craic, Zee. It’s going to be awesome. Can’t wait to hear it.”

Zayn smiled in response. Niall nodded with his chin towards the living room area, two glasses between his fingers on one hand, and six-pack of Guinness in the other.

“Please take of your shoes, don’t want to get the carpet dirty,” said Niall as they approached the couch, TV, and table with snacks.

“Course. Oh hey, I found some history about Hilton hotels.”

“Really?” Niall perked an eyebrow at him. He was now seated on the silver couch, tucking in one leg underneath his thigh. “Yeah. It’s now called Hilton Hotels and Resorts and was started in May 1919, 96 years ago.”

Niall whistled. “That’s a long time ago! Before the First War.”

“Actually, at the end of the First War,” smirked Zayn. Niall rolled his eyes playfully, casually punching his arm, and telling him to go on. “It was started by some guy called Conrad Hilton in Texas and called it Mobley Hotel.”

“Mobley Hotel?” Niall echoed. “What shit name is that?”

“He named some hotel in Dallas Hilton in the twenties and ever since, it’s been called Hilton. Well, all its hotels have been called Hilton.”

“Where’s the HQ?”

“HQ?”

Niall took a swig of his beer. “Headquarters, Zayn.”

Zayn playfully rolled his eyes. “It’s in Virginia. Used to be in Beverly Hills.”

“Do you know why they changed their name?” asked Niall, curiously.

Zayn shook his head. “No. Sometime in 2010, though.” Curiously, Zayn’s eyes flicked from Niall to the TV playing something on mute. “What were you watching?”

“Oh.” It is time for Niall to be casual, again. “This amazing movie called _Dope_. It’s the absolute craic.”

Oh if Eleanor was right here, if she could hear him lying through his teeth, she would literally not be ashamed to sell him out in front of Zayn.

“Really? Never watched it.”

“We could…” he says, turning to face Zayn. “If you want…”

“Sure.

“Unless you had other pl—”

“I came to hang out with you, Niall,” said Zayn gently, “and I’m your guest.”

“We don—”

“Niall,” said Zayn, gently. “I’d love to watch _Dope_ , alright?” Niall conceded with a nod. “And how were you watching this with Rae playing through the speakers?”

Niall’s words choke on his throat. Of-fucking-course his casual cover would be blown! What was he thinking? Of course no one watches a movie (if they really, really are) while listening to music on (what was now that he was paying attention) high volume.

Niall was saved by the bell. Or, rather, Zayn’s phone buzzing on the table in front of them. Niall took Zayn’s distraction to find the bloody remote to turn off the music. He does, coming back with a litre of ice cold water from the fridge.

“Doniya says hi.”

“Your sister?”

Zayn nodded. “She dropped me off as she was heading to a make-up meet up.”

“What’s a make-up meet up?” laughed Niall.

“I have no fucking idea,” chuckled Zayn. “But whatever it was, she was heading there.”

“Say hi back,” cheered Niall. They both got comfortable, one glass of whiskey in Zayn’s hand, a another can of Guinness in his hand (at which Zayn raised an eyebrow at how fast he drunk it. They had barely talked for _a minute_ ), and the bowls of snacks between them. Zayn had brought a bag of gummy bears that Niall fished out another dark blue bowl and was placed between them on the couch.

As Niall had previously never watched, he was forever thankful that Zayn said it was wiser if they watched the movie from the start. Niall, probably overdid it, said it was no problem, that he would gladly watch it again. _I watch it, literally, every fortnight_ , his mouth uselessly quipped.

“Hmm. Didn’t know that.”

“What?” asked Niall.

“That dope meant a stupid person,” answered Zayn, his gaze holding Niall’s, then took a sip of his whiskey.

 _Me_ too, he answered in his head. Instead, Niall shyly smiled ignoring the tingly feels on the tips of his fingers. He slides down in to the couch, wanting to occupy his stupid tingly fingers with something other than the _feeling in them_. He popped several gummy bears into his mouth and hummed happily.

Three Guinness’ later, Niall has slanked deep into the couch with this legs stretched out on the table in front of him. He was pretty sure that he was the one who has emptied the Doritos bowl as Zayn seemed to still be closed in on himself. His socked feet were planted on the carpeted floor, whiskey clasped in his right hand and eyes glued to the large TV screen.

It was pretty interesting, 36 minutes in, and he thought the movie was just picking up. The main character, Malcolm, went to a party, the party had a shoot-out, they escaped, but come Monday morning in school, Malcolm, and his two friends, discover he has pounds, and pounds of dope in his bag. And a gun.

“Shit,” said Zayn, his fingers disappearing into his jet-black hair.

“Right?”

“Do you think they’ll get into trouble for having all those drugs?” asked Zayn, now looking at him curiously, as if he held the answers to the movie.

“Who knows.”

“Thought you watched the movie?”

_Whoops._

Niall feels his body freeze right there and then. Of course Zayn looked at him liked he had the answers to his questions because he lied he had watched the movie. _Every fortnight_ , his mouth had supplied helpfully.

“I don’t want to spoil it for you,” he snickered nervously then put his lips round his can of beer.

Zayn seemed satisfied with that answer as he leaned back into the couch, his hand searching for the bowl of cookies. Without being too obvious, Niall watched Zayn from the corner of his eye munch on the cookie, his not-as-thin-as-his pink lips dancing as he chews, his Adam’s apple bopping to swallow the—

Niall snaps his head to the TV when Zayn’s head inches to his right. He parts his lips to take air in his lungs, his fingers holding his can tightly because _holy shit!_ He was almost caught. For the rest of the movie, Niall kept his eyes on the TV, not only because watching (read: being creepy) was a dangerous game but because _Dope_ had an interesting story line.

(He will never admit that to Eleanor.)

“Do you think,” began Zayn, as the credits rolled, “that Malcolm was right in saying that if he were white, no one would ask why he wanted to go to Harvard? That they only asked because he was black?”

“First off, that was a _dope_ application letter,” he laughed as Zayn rolled his eyes but he was also chuckling. “I think it’s like the leather bag concept they explained in the movie. One is real, the other fake, but because they look alike you wouldn’t know the difference. You’d only assume it was fake because of where you’re from. Malcolm probably had to say why he wanted to attend Harvard because of where he comes from.”

Zayn for what seemed like a minutes of silence, said nothing. His eyes however searched desperately into his, as if—. “That’s—that’s really good, Niall,” he said, as if Niall had just told him the secret to the Milky Way. “That’s—I think you’re right. He did talk about the whole thing of not fitting in, and all these definitions he could not fit in either, think he made sense in asking Harvard why they asked. Plus, he was smart.”

“Selling dope,” smirked Zayn. “It’s sad though, because if he only said he had an online business, making over hundred thousand dollars, he would have been accepted. But the other, where he goes to a crap school and sells dope then he wouldn’t.”

“Just part of the whole system, people judging us for the things we do,” commented Niall. “And they think what you see is what you get, that appearances are everything.”

He turned over to find Zayn intensely looking over at him. He could see the cogs working behind his hazel brown eyes

“What would you have done…” asked Niall. Zayn peered at him from his glass. “if you got accepted into Harvard?”

“Holy fuck!”

“That’s what you’d say? Holy fuck?” chuckled Niall.

“Holy fuck I got into Harvard,” he corrected himself. Niall punched his arm and asked to be serious for just a second. Zayn twisted himself on the couch, the TV long forgotten, and leaned against the couch. “I would’ve done Veterinary Medicine.”

“Vete—Really?” he began but he was so surprised. “You wanted to—thought you wanted to do English? Be a teacher at it?”

Zayn snorted. “That’s that bullshit I told the media when in One D. We always had to have some clean cut image, including our fucking dreams.”

“What was wrong with doing Veterinary Medicine?” asked Niall and the older boy shrugged. He poured himself more whiskey, Niall noting the grip on the bottle was shaky. “Why that course?”

“I love animals.” Zayn drank everything in the cup. “Love all of them, taking care of them. I had all sorts growing up. From dogs, cats, hamsters, fish, rabbits, a Parakeet and later as a gift from my aunt, an Amazon. As the years went on, I got my first lizard named Fire, snake, which I had to return the following day because Safaa found it in her room that morning, so instead my Dad said I can get a sugar glider.”

“How the hell did you get all these pets? Where did you keep them?”

Zayn laughed, really laughed. “Our neighbours thought we had a mini-zoo at our place. Or a pet shop. One neighbour called the police when she saw me walking my baby llama.”

“You had a baby llama?”

Zayn nodded sheepishly. His tipsy hand has lost its grip on the glass and fallen onto the couch while Niall is drinking his sixth beer. “Baby llama’s – sheep,  goats, piglets, too – are all so cute and cuddly I just. Anyway, we had to give it up, something about llamas not being allowed in the neighbourhood because we didn’t have enough space for it to grow.”

“Seems plausible. Don’t they become huge when they grow? Like camel-sized?”

“It would’ve fit.”

“Fit—” He started but stopped. He shook his head, honestly what was this conversation even, and instead asked, “What else did you have? A baby tiger?”

“Waliyha stole a chick and brought it home for me. It was yellow, so fluffy and cute and.” Zayn twisted his head and groaned into the couch. “It was _fluffy_ , Niall. You don’t understand. The problem was,” he said looking back at Niall, “was that I was not allowed any more pets at the time, so having a chick in the house was, you know.” Niall jerkily nodded. “I kept it in my room. Always. It never got out, and for three days it was mine and Waliyha’s secret, till it started making chick noises and next thing I know, my mom sold it. Kept the money though,” he snorted bitterly, as if the memory is fresh in his mind.

“What other crazy pet did you have?”

“I had a chameleon. Technically, it lived in my cousin’s house but every day after school, I would go see it then head home. I got a rat but my mom jumped out of her skin when one Sunday afternoon it went loose in the house. Parrot is not that crazy but it got so big, it didn’t fit its cage and had to let it go…”

 With his face on his hand, he listened Zayn list off the pets he had over the years, some he still has to date (just two), others died on the way, others had to be returned to the pet shop, some he gave away, some his Mom screamed at the top of his lungs at why he had it. Some he kept in hiding spots within the house – broken dryer, the dog house, his bedroom, the basement, attic – because his parents would not be pleased and Niall was so, so floored.

And it was not just because of Zayn taking care of _all_ them, it was the way he spoke about each of the pets he had, remembering them all even, the way he had compassion for each one, not loving one more than the other because they were all equal in his eyes.

“On my 16th birthday,” continued Zayn, “my Dad took me down to London, just me and him, and we went to the Animal Orphanage. I don’t think I’ve ever jumped up and down in my entire life but that day I did. Swear it. I could not keep _still_. I ran from one end of the Orphanage to the other, my nose permanently pressed to the glass when there was. My eyes never blinked at the lions, baby tigers, monkeys, even the lizards, crocodiles with their children that I got to pet. I fed the tall giraffes, the rhinos—I got to hug a panda.”

Niall raised his eyebrows, his lips widely smiling. “Really? Like an actual panda?”

He shook his head up and down against the couch. “It was cuddly, and soft, and I didn’t want to let go. I think I had balancing tears and think that my Dad noticed cause he asked the Orphanage keeper if I could stay a little while. It was against the rules, but the Keeper agreed and I got to hold the panda as well as feed it bamboo. Halima.”

“Halima?”

“It’s Arabic for tame.”

“Beautiful name.”

“Even before the day ended I just knew that animals and I were—Have you just ever had a calling? Like something was pulling you through?” asked Zayn and he gave him a smile. “That was me with animals. On the train ride back to Bradford, I Googled and searched, endlessly which Universities in the UK offered courses to do with animals. What came up instead was Veterinary Medicine at University of Melbourne.”

“Awesome.”

“It really was. I told my Dad all about it and he said that if I was sure, yes I was, and if I had the necessary grades, I did, and he said I should maintain that throughout A-levels and that the rest he would sort out.”

“What would you even need to do it?”

“University of Melbourne stated one should do Bachelor of Biomedicine or Science, then do a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine to qualify as a veterinarian. Or even a veterinary surgeon!”

“That sounds sick, Zee.”

“What about you? If you got into Harvard, what would you have done?”

Niall blinked at the question. He thought Zayn would continue with his tale of what happened thereafter? Did he apply to the University of Melbourne? Did he ever get a new pet as he did his A-levels? What went through his mind when he wanted to study to be a veterinarian as he auditioned for X-Factor the following year?

Niall put his (empty) beer can in the empty bowl of Doritos. “If I got accepted to Harvard, I think I’d be shocked for like, the rest of my life.”

Zayn laughed at that and Niall… Niall could not help but stare a little longer, how there were crinkles by Zayn’s eyes, his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth, his hand snaking round his stomach with utter genuine laughter. He ducked down his head, breathy laughing, too.

“I would’ve done Law. Entertainment Law, to be specific.”

“Seriously?” asked Zayn, his tone that of disbelief. “Would’ve never pegged you for a lawyer.”

“In my family, we’re all lawyers, so I guess it runs in the family?” He phrased it as a question. Bobby Horan was a corporate attorney, his Ma was  an intellectual property (IP) attorney, and even his brother, Greg, was a contract attorney. Everyone was a Lawyer. The Horans, simply put, were lawyers, well, attorneys actually.

“Why entertainment law?”

“The music industry fascinates me. It’s filled with drama, movement, _life_ despite the legal aspect of it all. My first choice would’ve been Criminal Law but my Ma shook her head no when I told her the idea, and said she did not raise children to defend the blood gutters.”

“Blood gutters?”

Niall shrugged one shoulder. “That’s what she said, so that was out and in came Entertainment Law. But,” he said, his head ducked down a bit, “one thing led to the other and I went for my X Factor auditions and all things Law forgotten. Well, not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“As we were on tour, I would often spend time in the bus reading up on laws regarding IP that my Ma had laying around the house. Books, affidavits, the lot, and it was quite interesting. What surprised me was I understood them, and I got it, which—”

“Makes sense, you grew up around Law jargon and whatnot.”

He guessed it made sense. In fact, he was the one who had found the loophole in the agreement Max and Eleanor had signed regarding their blog, _The Trend Pear_. He found a loophole within Article 103(b) that saw Eleanor regaining back the blog if given the right conditions could achieve that goal. That was how Niall forwarded the contract to Greg (as he specialized in Contract Law) and his mother to see if he was right.

He was.

“Suppose.”

“Do you regret it? That you never became a lawyer like the rest of your family?” asked Zayn and Niall never thought his voice could get so, so soft. Soft like cotton candy, all pink and _fluffy_.

Niall shrugged. Well, almost. He had never thought about it before. It was never really because he never went to Law school, it was just because something else came along the way and Niall being an spur-of-the-moment Irish lad took the chance and became an artist instead.

“Not really?” He phrased it as a question but Zayn was softly nodding at him, his hazel brown eyes stuck on him and his lips moved, words spilling out. “I still sort of pretend to be a lawyer, reading my Ma’s and brother’s law books, or listen to them chatter on about their cases, but I don’t regret it because that would mean I regret the last six years of my life, which I absolutely don’t.”

Zayn’s jawline tensed just then and his eyes grew hard and his left fist curled in but in the split second that followed, his face relaxed and his fist was free. Niall frowned, wondering what is was all about.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he announced and Niall frowned some more. As he disappeared to the bathroom, which Niall illustrated for him, Eleanor let herself in, holding eight, nine lander shopping bags on both of her hands.

“ _Hola amigo!_ ” She blew a kiss his way.

“You went to Alejandro’s again?” asked Niall, eyeing the shopping bags. Alejandro was the Colombian owner of a thrift store in downtown L.A. that sold fantastic shoes that _you just can’t find in designer stores, Nini_. It was an accident they stumbled upon it as he was looking for a shop that sold vintage guitars and Alejandro’s shop was right _there_.

“He sends his greetings.” Her eyes landed on the table. “You’ve drank a six-pack already? And whiskey? And an entire bowl of Dorit—Did you finish the Doritos Niall?”

“No,” he weakly says.

“I was going to eat that.”

“I kept a bag for you!”

Eleanor snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah right. It’s probably half a—wait a minute. You hate whiskey. Barely can stand it. Who’s here?”

“What makes you think someone is here?”

“Because you’re drinking whiskey—and are those gummy bears?” she asked as soon as she saw the bowl of gummy bears. She folded her arms on her chest. “Who’s here, Nini?”

“Zayn.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Zayn? As in _Zayn Malik_?”

“I asked him to come over. Well, not really, but the point is he came over and brought whiskey and I was watching _Dope_ and he said we should watch it togeth—”

“You finally watched _Dope_?”

Niall can here the smirk and amusement in her voice from miles away. “Yes, I finally watched it, and we’ll never talk about it again.”

“I tried endlessly to get you to watch it with me but you said, what were your words, too gangsta for your taste because you are a proud, Irish white male.”

“Eleanor?”

Before Niall can protest, Zayn emerged into the living room, standing behind Eleanor. She whipped, coming face to face with Zayn. She gave him a cursory once over, and narrowed her eyes when she eyes landed back on his face.

“I’m Zayn.”

“You don’t need to introduce yourself,” Niall half-groaned. “It’s just El.”

“Shut up, Nini,” she snapped at him who rolled his eyes and to Zayn, with her soft British accent, she said, “It’s alright. Don’t listen to this idiot. You can introduce yourself if you want.”

“I just feel like since we’re all starting again, I should,” he explained, looking at her but Niall saw his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt and his toes curling into the carpet.

 _Was he nervous_? he wondered.

Eleanor flipped her brown hair behind her shoulder. “I’m Eleanor.” Zayn smiled back at her and stretched his hand. “Aw c’mon, Zayn. Even if we’re starting again, some things don’t feel natural. We’re huggers around here.” She gave him a warm hug. “Good to see you around.”

“You too, Eleanor. Was nice meeting you.”

“Of course,” she giggled and Niall raised an eyebrow to her back. “One day we should all hang out.”

Zayn agreed. Eleanor excused herself, stating she had a new vlog entry to write and it would not write itself. In turn, Zayn stated that he should really be going because, holy shit, when did it get so late? The time read seven-forty-seven on his phone.

“Uh, yeah. Shit! Hadn’t been looking at the time,” he cursed, getting off the couch and setting the bowls on the table and Zayn’s whiskey glass.

“Keep it.”

“What?”

He pointed to the whiskey bottle. “In case you want more. Or Eleanor.”

“Thanks. It’s really going to be just for her.”

“Figured.”

Zayn wore his leather jacket and boots and Niall insisted on walking him down the Hilton hotel corridors to the lifts. He was walking in his socks (the one with the weed symbol) which Zayn had smirk for him but said nothing.

Niall, being Niall, broke their comfortable silence and asked why he never went to Univeristy.

Zayn shrugged.

“But you went for X Factor?” he pried and pushed. “If you opted out for Melbourne, you could’ve still gone to Uni but you went for X Factor…”

Niall had been walking not realizing he was not in step with him. In fact, he had stopped walking and was looking at him as he turned to ask _what’s wrong?_ but stopped himself.

“One day Dad’s heart stopped and it…”

Niall mentally punched himself, not loving the way his voice sounded exhausted, sad and slightly drunk. He did not like the way his shoulders were slumped beneath his leather jacket, his eyes gloomy and hands which are always seen now hidden in his pockets.

“…scared the shit out of me. I was at my aunt’s place, chilling with my cousin with one of my pet iguanas. On the phone, my Mom was weeping – the kind that you never want to hear from your mother – but here she was, crying, and I couldn’t hear anything. My aunt came on the phone and said that Dad was in the hospital. His heart stopped.”

Zayn breathes out through his lips. His back leans against the wall, between room numbers 4508 and 4516, his eyes downcast, however.

“The doctor’s didn’t have a name for it, still don’t, and for months I didn’t have a name to put all my anger into. He stayed in a hospital bed for almost three months, the hospital bills were high, Mom could not stop weeping, Safaa constantly asking for Dad to read her her bedtime stories and asking why Dad was sleeping for this long.”

He finally looks up and all the air is whipped out of his lungs. Niall sees the snippet of feelings of that time still evident in his eyes, the memories as sharp as a needle in his memory.

“I couldn’t leave for Melbourne. I couldn’t leave Dad,” he said, his lips trembling. “The saddest part was that there was no thinking about it, I just wasn’t going. When he woke up he almost seemed surprised to see me there, asking why I wasn’t in Melbourne, and I told him I couldn’t leave him.” And he sharply looked away.

“I sold all my pets, every single one of them,” he said, his voice watery, “and I made enough money to pay for all the standing bills save for the hospital bill which was still rising. I had to make money, fast, and X Factor was round the corner, I could sing, and I auditioned. The money we got from the signing and the single was more than enough to pay for the bill, including the interest rate the fucking hospital put on it.”

He then turns his head and locks his gaze with him.

“And that was it really. No Melbourne, no veterinarian, no animals. At least my Dad was safe.”

Niall moves his legs to where he was, and embraced him in a hug. His hands were around his lean waist, his chin on his shoulder. They stayed like this, Niall starting to regret this because Zayn was not hugging him back. Oh gosh, was it really a good idea to hug? Were they in the hug zone? _Were they?_

“Why are you not hugging me back?”

“You’ve tied my arms down.”

This time they did have a proper hug. Zayn circled his arms around Niall, burying his face to the crook of Niall’s neck. Thinking of it all, Niall tightened his hug around his middle.

Animals were everything to Zayn, that much Niall knew, and for him to sell every single one, he cannot imagine how painful it was, having to repeat the process when he sold his dogs, his cats, his bloody lizards and chameleons, his parrot, the sugar glider, the baby ducks… every single one was just as painful as the previous one.

To add salt onto injury, the prospect of going to Melbourne was cut short. For good. While there was hope in Zayn’s heart that animals would be in his life – because he was studying them – that too was taken away from him.

“When you become older, I hope that you buy a big, big house, with a large, large backyard, front yard, the lot, where you’ll have so, so many baby animals and normal-sized animals and because you’re Zayn Malik, no one will tell you shit.” He turned his head so his lips were to his ear. “And I hope this time, no one, not even Fate and the gods above, will not take that away from you.”

They part from their hug, a last squeeze before, and Zayn is blinking his eyes, looking up at the fluorescent lights.

“Never told anyone that before,” he confessed and Niall is surprised. “Thank you for listening. Feels good to get it off my chest.”

“You can tell me anything,” smiled Niall, his cheeks a tinge of pink. “Do you regret it? The not going to Melbourne, instead—singing?”

“I helped my Dad,” he said.

“You could’ve quit after the money.”

“The look on my Mom’s face when I surprised her with the cheque for the hospital bill made everything worth it. She said she was proud of me and I was timeless to my father.”

Zayn’s head is ducked down, he noticed, as he pressed the button for the lift. This time his head was down for a different reason – a happy reason.

 

 **~ ~ * ~ ~**

 

“NIALL JAMES HORAN! WHAT UNGODLY HOUR IS THIS YER CALLING MEH?”

Niall groaned at the yelling of his Ma through the laptop. Granted, it was a normal time here in Los Angeles but back in Mullingar it was, to use her words, an ungodly hour. In his defense, his Ma did say to call him “whenever.”

“It’s not that late, Ma,” he weakly protested but the flat look his mother gave him he mumbled an apology immediately. “I didn’t check the time. Sorry. I’ve missed you, though.”

Her face softened through the Skype video chat and Niall knew he had been forgiven. “It’s yer fault that ye have.” Well, almost forgiven he thought. “You barely call home, anymore. Always tourin’, and promotin’ ye single, and doin’ crazy knows what in Hilton hotels… Is my daughter asleep?”

“She is,” nodded Niall. As Niall and Eleanor grew closer, she was introduced to the family, and ever since she was like the daughter Maura never had, or the sister Niall and Greg never had. “El sends her greetings. Said she’d be free on the 23rd so we can both come home for the weekend?”

“I better see me kids here,” she said, a small threat in her tone.

“Course, Ma. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that. What are you doing anyway? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Yer crazy brother went on a business trip to meet some tough clients in South Korea regardin’ Samsun’, and he said that part of the meeting involved IP-related aspects to the business deals. Thought I’d help.”

“Course, Ma. You’re the best IP attorney in all of Europe, if not the world,” said Niall, pride heavy in his voice and chest. His Ma’s face cackled on the screen, waving her hand vaguely.

“Stop it, Chicken. Yer just saying that to me cause I’m ye Ma’.”

“Yes, true, but it’s also true you’re the best IP attorney in Europe. You can literally solve a case within minutes of reading the contracts and the case and—it’s bloody aw—”

“Language!” she scolded. “See what spendin’ time in that America country is doin’ to ye? Makin’ ye a child of curses. I ne’er raise a sailor, ye hear me, James Horan? No sailor!”

“Yes, Ma,” he groaned, willing himself not to roll his eyes in front of his mother.

“How’s that country anyway? Seen the Grand Canyon?”

Niall now did roll his eyes to which he received a new scolding from his mother. See, every time, since the TMH tour, his Ma always asked if he had been to the Grand Canyon. Every time he would explain that no, he did not, and that there were other _places and things_ to see in America. Still, she would ask and he would have the same response of:

“Not this time, Ma.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s bloo—hot, that’s why. And far. And expensive.”

“Is that Steve American not paying you enough?” she questioned, talking about his Manager at Capitol.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m busy promoting my single and I have no ti—”

“Eleanor told me that yer been making time for an Arab boy, hmm?” she questioned, her eyes piercing enough, even though a computer screen. He was definitely going to have a word with Eleanor tomorrow. Or rather, right now after the Skype chat with his Ma.

“It’s just Zayn, Ma’. And he’s not Arab!”

“Just Zayn, hmm?”

“You remember him.”

“Course I do. He ruined your band,” she said, offhandedly.

“He’s not that bad, Ma’. He had his reasons for leaving, and I respect them.”

“So what’s up with ye and this Arab boy? Why the sudden interest in ‘im?”

“I… I just want the five of us to be brothers like we all were when we were in One Direction. I know it’s a shot in the dark,” he added hastily as his Ma’s mouth moved, “but I think we all can. It’s just a matter of forgiveness and remembering what we shared for those five years.”

“It’s as if when the Arab boy left it was goodbye.”

He had did not even bother correcting his Ma at this point that Zayn was in fact not Arab. “Zayn leaving wasn’t meant to be that. It was just a break, he just needed to get away, like how we all want to go off somewhere on our own, refresh then—then come back.”

“And he didn’t.”

“I’m bringing him back.”

“This sounds like a recipe for disaster, Chicken,” said his Ma. “Do you have a plan?”

“I guess that if Harry, Liam and Louis see me and Zayn being friends, they will come around, see that Zayn isn’t all that bad as… as he seemed when he left.”

“You know, how someone leaves, says a lot about who they are,” said his Ma wisely.

“And _why_ ,” he added.

“How are the three takin’ it?”

“Liam is seemingly neutral about the whole thing. Sort of supportive?” he phrased it as a question. “He asked me how Zayn is, what he’s been up to, and that’s all. But I take that as a positive.”

His Ma nodded.

“Harry is passive aggressive, like always, about the whole Zayn thing. Louis is getting suspicious about us hanging out.”

“How come?”

“Well, yesterday Zayn came by to the hotel and we chilled. A fan spotted him, took a photo of him, and then by night fall it was all over Twitter, and several articles were already up about it.”

“Maybe they didn’t know it was yer room he was goin’ to.”

“Nah. They did, Ma’. Everyone knows I only go to Hilton hotels.”

“Why is Louis suspicious?”

“I lied.” His mother frowned. “Sort of.” Her frowned deepened and he knew he had to immediately explain himself. Lying was not allowed within the Horan family. “When Louis had asked why I re-followed Zayn on Twitter, I said it was because I was using him for publicity for my single—I had to, Ma’. It was the only way to get the three of them off my back.”

“Why didn’t ye just tell them the truth that ye wanted to be friends with him?”

“It would be like a betrayal to them. I would be picking sides. Besides, what if I did pick Zayn’s side, and he rejected my friendship? In the end I’d have no one. So, this was my safe bet, if I lost Zayn with my attempt at friendship then I’d still have the other three.”

“Is all of this worth it?”

Niall nodded sincerely. “I want all five of us to be brothers, be friends forever like it was meant to be. Not a bunch of idiots who cannot accept what happened and move forward.”

“Well, it seems like yer got a plan in yer head?” she stated but it came out as a question to Niall’s ears.

“I do. By Halloween, we should all have ironed our differences and be brothers once again.”

“Louis will be the hardest to convince.”

“And Harry always backs Louis, so that includes him. I’ll start with Liam, then work with Louis.”

“Why not Harry alone? He’s a very understanding, strappy man.” Niall rolled his eyes but chuckled despite himself. “He seems like he’ll forgive Zayn if Zayn bought him a fluffy teddy bear.”

“He’s a nice lad, Ma,” said Niall, earnestly. “He’s the nicest one, the most compassionate one, has always been, and it’s like I’m only noticing this now.”

His Ma remained quiet on the other side of the screen and he took it as a signal to continue, which he did, grateful for his mother for letting him ramble, vent, let everything out in the open. His mother often told him, advised him, to never keep bottled inside. One day he would burst like a balloon and the beer he had been drinking would spill out. It had been a joke, everyone laughed, but he understood her underlying message and the worry in her tone when she looked at him from across the room during St. Patrick’s day.

“I mean, we haven’t spent much time together, but I’ve been seeing him in a new light than before. He’s a true, true family man. He is always there for his family, whether physically, spiritually, or—whatever way he can, he is. Like, he couldn’t attend his older sister’s make-up launch in London few months back but he had asked her to send lots of photos, and even Facetimed her three times. He drove around all of London, going through each University with his sister, Waliyha, to decide which one she would be attending come September. For his mom, he often sends an assortment of flowers for her on random days – and remember he bought them a house?”

His Ma nodded. “I remember. It was in the movie, innit?”

“Yeah. If someone who puts family first is like this, how can anyone hate him for doing what he thought was best? How can anyone hate him for leaving the band?”

“Ye did.”

“At first. But, watching his interviews, being with him, I’m beginning to understand. He said he liked my laugh,” he gushed.

His Ma raised an eyebrow. “Ye have the loudest laugh in all of Ireland!”

“It runs in the family, Ma’. Not just me.”

“Ye like him, do ya?”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you implying, Ma’?”

“Oh, not like that. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Do you care about him?”

“Y-yes,” he murmured, not sure where his mother was heading.

“Success is not guaranteed, it is earned,” said his mother, wisely. It was always something she said, something like a mantra.

“Alright.”

“Don’t lie to him, James Horan. If yer goin’ to stick in his life, you do it, and don’t leave just because it gets too hard. I know a lot of people have left yer life, but that’s better than havin’ fake people in your life. So if he ever leaves you, know it was your fault.”

“Love the confidence, Ma.” His mother levels him with a look, no time for joking or making snarky comments. “I won’t make him leave.”

“One day you’re goin’ to make a choice between Zayn, or Harry, Louis and Liam, and I hope you make the right decision in here,” she said, palming her chest where her heart was beating.

“Do you think he’d want to leave me, for the second time?”

“He didn’t leave you, he left the band. And why would he want to leave my adorable, Irish son?”

Niall preened. “Because I’m too, too awesome.”

“With a fading Irish accent,” she reprimanded. Niall controlled his eyes before he rolled them skyward. “All the people who left you were idiots.”

“Bobby left.”

“Idiots,” she said, then smirked playfully. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah I did.” Placing his feet off the chair and onto the floor, he spoke to his mother, “Go to bed Ma’. It’s late.”

“I’ll be up for the next hour, readin’ over the case and tryin’ to find what Samsun’ is being sued for.”

“The devil’s in the details,” he reminded her and the both laughed at their inside jokes. Or rather, a lawyer joke. His Ma often said that the secret to being a great lawyer was finding the devil in the details. While that was not _entirely_ an accurate good advice for someone who wanted to be a lawyer, it worked so far for his family of attorneys.

“Always,” she chuckled.

  **~ ~ * ~ ~**

 

The next 72 hours for Niall were going to be busy: Zayn’s cousin’s 21st, Liam’s premiere with CFC, and his Ma’s BBQ were all happening within those hours. And he had to be back in New York by seven in the morning for his interview with SiriusXM.

Eleanor had managed to squeeze everything in his calendar, not forgetting the 7-hour flight which was a nightmare to book within short notice.

“Should’ve told me earlier, Niall!” Eleanor had shouted as she kept looking for free space within various airlines but all of them were booked. “Now I’m stressing myself with looking for a good flight that will let you land in London by 1 o’clock but that isn’t possible.”

“Least you’re not booking hotels,” he had said, trying to lighten the tension. Instead, he got daggers.

By the end of it he would be on an early morning 4 o’clock flight heading for Heathrow on Saturday and would land just before noon. Plenty of time to freshen up, change into something casual, then head straight for Wembley stadium for Liam’s Premier football match with Chelsea.

“We’re leaving on Sunday night at 10 o’clock to New York for your interview with SiriusXM,” she said. They were in the limo, graciously given by Capitol Records, heading for Zayn’s cousin’s 22nd birthday party.

“So late though. You know how Ma’s barbecues go on and on.”

“Tough! This is what you get for dragging me to Zayn’s thing. Who’s the cousin?”

“Jawaad,” said Niall, reading from his phone.

“Shouldn’t you know his name before you get to his party?”

“Didn’t want to pronounce it wrong when I get there!” huffed Niall.

“And isn’t that Zayn’s middle name?”

“His name is _Javadd_.”

“Who else will be at this party?”

“Zayn—”

“Wow!”

“—and the party host. Zayn’s sister, Doniya, and other people that I didn’t quite memorize cause they didn’t sound familiar. There’ll be plenty of people, he said, so we shouldn’t feel out of place.”

“Feels a lot like a family gathering than, you know, a party.”

As it turned out, it really was a party. Well, Niall often joked that Zayn’s cousins alone could make their own party but at Jawaad’s 22nd there were _other_ guests besides Zayn’s extended family.

The party itself was in full swing, even if Eleanor felt as if they had arrived early (it was barely seven-thirty). As they slipped through the elevators onto Zayn’s penthouse, it was the loud Arabic House music that greeted their ears. It was loud, smooth and sweet and really did make you want to move your feet. Clutching his gift harder in one hand, the other holding Eleanor’s hand, Niall swerved his way through the entrance to where more people were gathered.

The ceiling was decorated in various strobe lights, the room itself illuminated with hues of red, blue, green and yellow every minute or so. Jawaad, at least Niall thought so, was standing atop the bar shouting something in Arabic and next thing he knew was he was falling on top of a sea of people who jumped him up and down as the surfed through the buzzing room.

“Do you know where Zayn is?” Eleanor shouted above the music.

“No!”

“Let’s find the bar!” suggested Eleanor, pulling Niall.

They weaved their way through the crowd, who were now chanting along to the song playing which Niall thought was a hit in, well, wherever the song was from. Jordan? Dubai? _Oman?_

The bartender served them two blue-colored shots which Eleanor gulped hers in a split second, even before Niall had _tasted_ his.

“What? Don’t judge me!”

“Wasn’t,” he shook his head and chugged his down. The bartender gave them four shots this time to which they clinked their glasses and swallowed them down in a jiffy.

“Text him to say we’ve arrived.”

Niall pocket his phone, sending a text to Zayn telling him of their arrival. He waited for seconds but no text was forthcoming. He placed his phone back in his back pocket and opted for drinking. Drinking was always good.

“Do you know anyone else where apart from Zayn’s family and the host?”

Niall barked a laugh. “I think that’s literally everyone here at the party.”

“I see a Hispanic looking girl over there.” Niall followed to where Eleanor was pointing. “Least she doesn’t speak Arabic.”

“I know how to say hello in Arabic. And where is the toilet.”

Eleanor giggled in his ear. “Why the fuck would you want to know something like that?”

“Because saying hello—”

“The toilet!”

“I might wake up in Saudi Arabia and really, really want to take a shit,” laughed Niall.

“Holy hell!” Eleanor exclaimed, holding Niall’s bicep painfully tight.

“What?”

“That’s Kendall Jenner.”

“Where?”

“There?”

“Where?”

“Near the guy with black hair!”

Niall looked, really looked, at the sea of people with black hair. “That’s literally everyone at this party, El.”

“No. Black hair.”

“I know what black hair looks like,” he huffed. “Though under all these lights it looks blue, then gree—”

“He’s talking to Kendall now.”

“Are you sure that’s Kendall? Like, Harry’s ex Kendall?”

“I’d know her from anywhere.” Eleanor rolled her eyes, offended she would mistake Kendall for someone else. “Let’s go say hi.”

“It’s going to be so awkward what with me saying hi, her being exes with Harry and all…” he let his sentence peter out. He really did not want to say hello to Kendall and simply wanted to find Zayn – and the part host to give him his present.

Niall was tipsy, or on the border of drunk. It has been 30 minutes, still no reply from Zayn and Eleanor has been chatting to Kendall – and the guy with black hair. The bartender and him had bonded, or rather, he had started telling him of the time he took his brother’s guitar and taught himself to play it. The bartender seemed interested, interested enough he left him talking to no one as he went on to flirt with some girl from across the bar.

He hopped off the bar, sending Zayn another text, and looking for Jawaad. He was easy to find, thank goodness, and he gave him his present.

“Happy Birthday!”

“Thank you, Niall,” Jawaad cheered, giving him a side hug. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Was nothing, really. I love buying gifts.”

“Zayn’s gonna be happy you’re here,” he told him, his speech slurring. “And don’t worry about the rest.”

“Rest?”

“The family,” his thumb pointed over his shoulder, “don’t exactly like the idea of you two being friends.”

“What? Why?”

Jawaad shrugged his eyes glassy. “They think you’re out to ruin Zayn’s career. They don’t understand that you’re trying to be his friend.”

“But that’s all it is. I want to be his friend again,” defended Niall.

Jawaad leaned against the wall, a drunk smile on his lips. “He’s been defending you.” Niall blinked in surprise. “He’s been saying how you’re not like the others” – and Niall assumed he meant Harry and Co. – “and you have a pure heart. The rest of them,” his thumb points over his shoulder again, “don’t believe it.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

He shrugged. “But if Zayn trusts you, then I do. Good luck!”

“Good luck?—” Niall did not even finish his question as Jawaad stumbled back into the dancing party behind him. He checked his phone, finding no message from Zayn, and looking through the crowd he could not spot Eleanor.  

It was not long before Zayn’s various cousins spotted him and one by one they were saying hello to him, taking a shot or two with him, then asking why he was in Zayn’s life.

“I want to be his friend,” he defended, the sixth cousin (or person) he has had to explain this too. It was quickly becoming a nag. “Why are all of you suddenly interested?”

“Because you were an ass to my cousin, that’s why,” she said (Niall did not catch her name). “All four of you didn’t speak to him, didn’t call him. You turned off your phones like a bunch of girls in high school.”

“He left on his own accord. I don’t know why you’re giving me shit.” In hindsight he probably should not have said that to someone important to Zayn, or someone he had never met but, oh well. Blame it on the shots.

“You gave Zayn a lot of shit for something he had the courage to do. He was scared shitless for what he did. For months, he felt guilty for what he did to his four bestfriends. He wanted to apologize but none of you—”

“And now _I’m_ the one apologizing. I’m the one reaching out so I don’t see why I’m getting accused of doing what Zayn had been trying to do since last year.”

“Because it’s a little too late now, Niall,” she scoffed.

The next cousin Niall met he caught the name – Zimran. He had made the mistaken of asking if he had seen Zayn to which he asked if he was Niall.

“You’re Niall, right? The Irish?”

“Yeah. Where’s Zayn?” he demanded.

“Oooh, so demanding, you are—” He said something in Arabic then laughed, probably at his own joke. “Why are you here?”

“Whatever reason you’re here.”

“I’m family. What are you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Friend.”

Zimran snorted. “Do you like it here?”

“Yeah. Though it’s a little stuffy.”

“That’s not what I meant. You have no space in Zayn’s new life. When he walked away from you, and the band, it was for good. And now when he made peace with everything, you’re back. For some odd reason.” He walked into Niall’s personal space. He backed away but there was a wall. “This is his life, and you have yours. That’s the way the world works right now. You set the boundaries, so why cross them now?”

“Because they were dumb boundaries, created irrationally and harshly, without a second thought. I’m here to right those wrongs.”

“He left you, Niall. You see this party? Did you notice that you’ve been hanging out near the exit, not mingling with the rest? That’s not a coincidence, it was by design.”

“I feel as if you’re driving to a point, would you mind going there?” he asked, feeling a pounding headache growing on the back of his head.

“You don’t have a spot in Zayn’s life anymore. Stop wasting your time and leave. Do him a favor—”

Niall never got to hear the end of his sentence, and what favor he was meant to do to Zayn, but he had never been grateful for someone coming in. Jawaad, it was, had wrapped his arms on his and Zimran’s shoulders, screaming in their ears for shots, shots, shots.

“I think I’ve had enough,” said Niall. “I should even be going home.”

Jawaad pouted at him but the evil smirk on Zimran’s lips was enough to convince himself that yes, he should really leave. It was only when he was busy pressing his thumb to the lift that fucking finally Zayn appeared.

“Niall?” Niall whipped his head to find Zayn standing before him, a frown painted on his forehead. “Are you leaving?”

“Uh, yeah. I. Um.”

“Don’t leave. You just got here.”

No, he most certainly did not. Niall rolled his eyes and his eyes landed on someone standing to his right. Zayn’s right. Zayn followed his eyes and introduced the lady in question.

“Niall, this is Gigi Hadid, my gorgeous girlfriend.”

It was not that Niall did not know, he truly did. It was obvious, what with the Instagram photos, the lovey dovey tweets, the Snaps constantly of both of them on holidaying, but it did not hit him until now with Gigi stretching her hand for his to shake that Zayn was taken. Zayn had a girlfriend. All the times they had been starting their friendship, nowhere in his mind was there _someone like Gigi_ , someone like a girlfriend, som—

“Niall?”

Niall blinked out of his reverie. He looked down to see Gigi’s hand still there, her smile waning by now for holding her hand out for his to shake. He took a breath in as he shook her hand, a tight smile on his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Gigi.”

“I hope we’re going to all be good friends,” she said in her deep American accent. “This one,” her index finger pointed poking Zayn’s cheek, “can’t stop talking about you.”

Niall nervously laughed, his eyes flickered to Zayn looking fondly at Gigi, who was still saying something but he tuned it out.

“I should leave,” he announced.

“Why? I haven’t introduced you to anyone. Have you met Jawaad?”

“I did. Met everyone, trust me.”

Zayn turned then and whispered in his girlfriend’s ear, who nodded then planted a kiss on his lips. She walked off and now it was just the two of them – and several bodies holding glasses of brown alcohol and chattering the night away.

“What’s wrong Niall? Are you not having a good time?”

“Your family is—extremely protective. Of you.”

“What did they do?”

“Do you have space for me in your new life?” asked Niall, his voice dripping with vulnerability. “Or am I wasting my time?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Do you?”

“Of course. Yes, yes, you do, Niall. You always do. I’ll always make space for you.”

“Your cousin’s put things into perspective for me. They made sense and—maybe this friendship thing isn’t working out and I was dumb in even initiating it. I should’ve stayed away, made it like it was before.”

There was a pregnancy of silent between them, the Arabic music playing through the start-of-the-art speakers. Niall looked away from under the intense stare from the older boy and pressed his thumb to call the elevator.

“Come with me.”

 

Zayn and Niall had hidden themselves in his spacious, silver and black bathroom. Niall had carried two bottles of beer that had secretly been hidden and a bottle of whiskey for Zayn while Zayn carried several halal baguette sandwiches as Niall’s stomach had growled loudly right there and then.

“Should you be in here?” asked Niall, sitting near Zayn on the heated bathroom floor.

“Not my party.” Zayn placed a cigarette between his lips and lighted it with a match. “It’s my cousins. And besides, you didn’t look like you were having fun.”

“I—was?”

Zayn snorted, smoke blowing through his nose. “Should I give you a second or two to come up with a lie?”

Niall did not respond, instead picking up a beef baguette sandwich. “I thought Muslims don’t eat meat?”

“It’s pork,” supplied Zayn. He turned on the spot so that he was sitting with his side pressed to the side of the bathroom walls, his knees pressed to Niall’s thigh. “Plus the meat is halal, so it’s cool.”

“It’s tasty. No pickles, thank goodness.”

“Jawaad hates pickles, so Doniya, who was in charge of food, made sure there were no pickles.”

“Didn’t see candles,” teased Niall, chewing on his sandwich. Zayn chuckled, smoke escaping his lips, and Niall’s mouth momentarily forgot how to chew. His eyes followed his hand flicking the butt of his cigarette into the black ashtray he carried.

“I’m sorry on behalf of my family for what they said to you and I’d like to say that when I left back after…” he trailed off, Niall nodding in understanding. “I couldn’t come back. I wanted to, really did, but I couldn’t because I left all of you. I didn’t shut any of you out. I knew you all needed time to be angry, which is what I gave, but it seemed to have made all these spaces between us deepen.”

“Can’t blame anyone, right?”

“You can blame me, you’re allowed,” he chuckled dryly. He stopped to take a long drag, his cheeks hollowing. “I was a jerk about it. I just didn’t think it would _last_ this long.”

“Me neither,” he replied honestly. “Now,” he said cheerily, trying to move on from this topic, “have you ever gone scuba diving?”

“So random. I keep telling you you’re so random,” chuckled Zayn. He opened his Dunhill pack of cigarettes, lighting it up and taking a long drag. “No, I haven’t. You?”

Niall shook his head. “I would ask you why not but then you’d ask me, too, and I honestly don’t have an answer.”

“You went backpacking across Asia, so you had a likely chance.”

“Point.” He takes the last bite of his sandwich. “Favorite swear word?”

Zayn lifted an eyebrow. “Swear word? Do people have a favorite?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

As Zayn thought of his answer, he could hear the vibrations of the music from downstairs. Eleanor had texted him, reminding him that they would be leaving at two as one should be at the airport two, three hours before their flight. But with Zayn’s knees pressed to his thigh, the warm bathroom floors warm on his Irish tooshie, and Zayn’s aura of smoke and mint, he really did not want that 4AM flight.

“Fuck.”

“ _Fuck_?” Niall echoed incredulously. “Isn’t that a normal swear, basic word?”

“But it’s so cool. _Fuck_. Just the way it rolls of your tongue feels right. Yours?”

“Cunt,” he chuckled as he said the word.

“Cunt,” repeated Zayn, as if tasting the word on his mouth. “Hmm. There’s fucking cunt.”

Niall howled in laughter. “Fucking cunt. Oh! That’s rich!”

“Shut up! It’s not even that funny.” But Zayn was laughing too, lighter than Niall’s. “My turn to ask. What type of music do you like?”

“Hmm. Pop songs, any day. Lately, I’ve been into the Classics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The ol’ classics like Kenny Rogers, Gladys Knight and the Pips, Elvis Presley too.”

“What’s your favorite song of Kenny Rogers?”

“ _Coward of the County_ ,” he replied. “It’s sort of an old song, one of those famous country songs. I like it cause it talks of how being tough, having big muscles, fighting, and whatnot, doesn’t mean you’re a man. The son in the song said he wouldn’t be like his dad, who got in useless fights, so he turned the other cheek, always.”

Zayn asked, after a lengthy pause, “Do you have it on your phone?”

Niall pocketed out his phone and seconds later Kenny Rogers song played in the bathroom they were in.

“It’s actually not bad. I mean, country isn’t my thing but this song is cool. I think it’s the story that makes the song catchy.”

Niall nodded. “Lyrical genius, really. When I write songs I try to have a story. I mean if you listen to most of Kenny Rogers songs he is always telling a story, about fathers, sons, the old times, and maybe that’s why he’s a legend.”

“RnB and Hip-Hop for me,” he answered when Niall asked him of his type of music. “Right now I’m on a Frank Ocean streak. I’m on his _Nostalgia, Ultra_ album. Pretty sick.”

“What’s your most used phrase?”

Zayn’s lips tugged upward. “Literally yesterday Doniya told me I keep saying, ‘know what I mean?’ a lot. And I didn’t notice this until she said it and it hit me that I do. I actually do.”

“You did a lot in the interviews back in the day,” said Niall, finishing the second sandwich. “I don’t think I have a common phrase. Or most used. I don’t discriminate the English language. I love all words equally.”

Niall’s body swayed left as Zayn pushed him gently with his fist. “Shut up. I care about all words, too. Just. I don’t love them any less if I use two words more often.”

Niall snorted. He took a large bite of his third sandwich, this time chicken. “I love your new hair color, by the way. Blue suits you.”

“Thanks,” Zayn preened. He squeezed the butt of his cigarette into his ashtray. “I want to go through the whole rainbow. Though I don’t think I’ll do yellow any time soon.”

“Yellow’s just like blond though, right?”

Zayn scrunched his nose. “Yellow’s disgusting as a color. On hair,” he added seeing Niall about to protest. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“Just like words, I don’t discriminate color. Apart from brown. It’s icky, disgusting and I don’t even know how it exists,” Niall said making a face of disgust. “I don’t even know how people can wear brown—anything really. And they walk out of their house? With confidence. If I ever rise to power, those people will never see the light of day.”

Zayn had started chuckling in the middle of it, and now his eyes were tight shut from chuckling heavily. “I’ll never wear brown if you ever become the Prime Minister,” he said, after composing himself.

“Better not. Would be a shame if you never saw the sun—there’s one sandwich left!” he exclaim as his hand reached for the plate that had several sandwiches. “And you haven’t eaten one.”

“M’not hungry. Have the last one.”

“Have you even eaten anything?”

“I had fried chicken for lunch.”

“How many?”

“Enough.”

“Is that Zayn-speak for one?”

“Three.”

Niall pursed his lips together. He took the sandwich and handed it to him. “You need food in your system. It’s ten-fifteen right now and the last time you ate was round noon, one which was a long time ago.”

“I had a carrot.”

“Oh jeez! You on a diet or summat, Zee?”

“No. It’s just. Eat the sandwich, Niall.”

Niall took the sandwich but only to cut it in half, handing Zayn the bigger half. “Here, eat something.”

Zayn mumbled a “Thank you” as he accepted the bigger half sandwich. A comfortable silence fell between them, Niall’s head on the wall, looking up at the mirror. But Niall was not a quiet person, never has, never been. He loved talking. In fact, his Ma always said there was never a moment in his life where his mouth was closed for more than five minutes. Never a time he met a word had he never liked, which consequently made him a chatterbox. He always loved talking, constantly, somehow finding _new_ things to talk about.

“If—if you find me talking and asking too many questions, please tell me,” he broke the silence. “My Ma’ always said I never stayed quiet for more than five minutes. There was a time when I was silent for 40 minutes and she thought I was sick.”

“I like you talking to me.”

“Weed or cigarettes?”

“Cigarettes.”

“Really? You, Liam and Louis would constantly be smoking up in the bus any chance you got.”

“I sort of quit weed.”

“Quit?” Niall put his sandwich on his lap. “What do you mean quit?”

“I stopped smoking it.”

Niall rolled his eyes in a huff. “I know what quit means, Z. I meant, why’d you quit?”

“When you smoke weed, you don’t feel like eating. So when I was still in the band, I’d either be high or about to get high, no in between, therefore there was no time for eating. I didn’t notice until my mom would point it out when I Facetimed her, saying I was getting thin, not eating enough… I assured her I was, and I was, but.” He shook his head.

When the silence stretched, Niall asked, “Was it the food you didn’t like?”

“When I was in the band I didn’t feel like I had control over, well, anything and for a moment I felt the only thing I could control was my eating habits. So I’d roll a joint, smoke up, and not feel hungry and I wouldn’t eat. It was an illusion, really, that I had control. It just made Mom worry.”

“Of course it did. She’s worried her son is thinning out.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t have an eating disorder,” he said defensively.

“That’s no—not what I meant.”

“Me not eating was the only thing I could control in my life at that point, Niall. So what if I starved? So what if I didn’t eat for two, three days? So what? Least I had something I could control.”

There were no words on Niall’s tongue, just air. So he reached out and held Zayn’s wrist with the _ZAP!_ and _MSG_ tattoo.

“I saw the balancing tears in Mom’s eyes and heard the worry in her voice that I decided to quit. It was easier to quit because I had left and I had some semblance of control of my life, like the music I produced, the lyrics I wrote, the—everything. I had control of it all.”

“If you felt you were losing control, you could’ve told me. Anyone of us.”

“We were all knee-deep what we were doing there was no point in adding more baggage onto it.”

“It wouldn’t have been,” Niall pressed, his grasp on Zayn’s arm tight. “We—I would’ve helped.”

“I do eat now,” Zayn said reassuringly. “It’s just that at times I do forget to eat, until I see people eating or someone points it out. By then I realize the last time I ate was probably lunch, or early morning.”

“I, for one, don’t know how you can give up ice–cream. It’s illegal to abandoned ice-cream.”

Zayn playfully rolled his eyes. “I didn’t quit all foods.”

“Illegal, I say.”

“That’s no—” Zayn’s sentence is punctuated by a large, large yawn, where he even shuts his eyes.

“Whoa! That’s the biggest yawn I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up. Is not.”

“Massive. Whale-sized.”

“M’tired. Planning parties for diva cousins is no joke.”

“Right up your alley, then?” winked Niall. “But if you’re really sleeply, you can take a short nap.”

Zayn frowned. “No. We’re hanging out. In a bathroom, no less.”

“C’mon, Zee. I hanged out at your place when you were sleeping, I think it’s allowed.”

“That was different. I woke up early.”

Niall had by now finished his sandwich and was wiping off his hands clean on his plaid button-up. He takes Zayn’s sandwich and dumps it on the plate.

“I wasn’t done.”

“You’re not going to finish it, let’s be real here.” Zayn pouted at him as a response. “Now c’mon, a nap. Those 15-minute power naps, yeah?”

“What about your flight?”

“It’s at 4 in the morning and El said we should leave at 2. We’ve got plenty of time. Now,” he patted his lap, “sleep. I’ll wake you.”

“An hour?”

Niall nodded. Zayn tentatively lowered his blue-haired head on his lap, his head facing the ceiling. “Are you comfortable?” he inquired. Zayn nodded against his lap, and shut his eyes.

“Thank you, Niall.”

He could not help it but comb his fingers through his hair, scratch on his scalp. He saw Zayn’s lips quirk upward, a whisper of a hum coming from his throat.

“Anytime.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the GIF made me laugh so it made it into the story.
> 
> I highly recommend you to watch 'Dope' it's a sick movie & funny though it depends on YOUR humor type =P Hope you enjoyed the chapter [: & would appreciate any KUDOS & COMMENTS =D


	6. Hall Of Fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the 89th Grammy Awards.

> **I got the people’s attention, don’t wanna lose it here**  
>  **Thinking about my career, miserable here**  
>  **But I wanna make sure I get invited next year**  
>  **~ Macklemore & Ryan Lewis**

 

This was what Niall lived for: the applause and the lights.

Niall loved the stage, in fact, he _missed_ it. The touring of stadiums, singing live, playing his guitar to people who enjoyed his music... he missed all of it. And tonight he would be reliving all of it.

Tonight was a big event: it was the It. Steve, the CEO of Capitol and his manager, had slotted him into the Performance List along with the likes of Beyoncé, Bruno Mars, and Adele.

“You’re popular now with _This Town_ topping charts, even four months after its release,” explained Eleanor the day before as he told him that he would be performing. “Your success, in this industry, determines your value. Didn’t you know this when you were in One Direction?”

Yes, he knew that but… but Eleanor had moved topics concerning what he was going to wear at the Grammy’s.

“Your suit is going to be a custom-made Hugo Boss, always, and your shoes are…”

He tuned her out because, honestly, clothes were clothes to him and he only cared if they _fit,_ anything else was simply details that he did not need to know. _He is not a fashion designer_ , he would always argue.

There was a twist with the 89th Grammy, there would be surprise Awards – whether the artist was present or not. So that meant there was a 50-50 chance that Niall would win something for _This Town_ and also another 50-50 chance for anything One Direction (he was allocated the duty of receiving the award seeing as he was _already_ attending the event).

Most of the artists attending the event he had no idea who they were. Having gotten an exclusive list of nominees ahead of, well, everyone else on his flight to New York from the weekend in London, he came blank as his eyes scanned down the list.

He knew those like Beyoncé, Twenty One Pilots, Kanye, Adele (who did not know them?) but Sturgill Simpson, Chance The Rapper, Tycho (was this lad serious?), Snarky Puppy (W.T.F)… Niall simply put the paper down at this point, dreading even attending the Grammy’s because, really, he knew no one there.

Eleanor had smacked the back of his head when he voiced this aloud. “It’s not about who you know there, it’s about who you’ll _meet_ there.”

“I want to know people there,” he argued. “At least two people, or three at most, so that we have a good time.”

“This is your time to promote, promote, promote. To network, network, network, get people talking about your single.”

And then what?

What came after he performed? What happened when people love his single so much that they could not love it anymore? What if Twenty One Pilots, Lana Del Rey or even Gallant (whoever that was!) released a single and people love that instead? What then? Was he to release another single? And another? And one more, just to, what, be relevant?

“Is that what you want?” asked his brother, one day when he was in the workings of _This Town_. It was in the second quarter of last year. “Just to be releasing single, after single, after another?”

“Well, Steve and El think that I should play it safe and do that. Test the industry and whatnot. Plus, I’m not with One D anymore, so they don’t know if I’m important. Enough.”

“You’re _more_ than enough. Fuck Capitol, fuck the industry that think you’re not enough!”

Later that week, he had had a meeting with Steve who had blatantly asked him what he wanted. He was confused, asking what _he_ meant.

“Who do you want?” he asked in a commanding yet friendly tone, stressing each word. “Do you want to be successful at radio? Do you want to kiss ass? Do you want a career? Do you want to make albums? Do you want arena or stadium tours? What. Do. You. Want?”

Niall just wanted to sing. Bloody _sing_. Realistically speaking, or from Steve’s point-of-view (what with being the CEO of Capitol Records and all), Niall had to think deeper than that. He could not _just_ sing and strum his guitar.

In the end, Niall picked a theme for his debut single which would henceforth be a theme for his album: abandonment. He painfully had to explain it all to Steve, something he himself barely had grasped, something he barely uttered to his Ma, barely scratched the surface with Eleanor and yet here was, telling all to Steve.

“I think it’s a brilliant theme,” he had said thoughtfully after Niall explained why he would be singing on abandonment for his upcoming album.

“Really?” he breathed, his throat scratchy and eyes red from shedding a few tears.

He nodded. “I don’t want you to do what you did with One Direction for your upcoming album. I want you to write how you want to write, to have bridges where you want them, to have a story or not, to have a song for 10 minutes or for 30 seconds, I don’t care, as long as I can hear the theme in it. And that you enjoy yourself.”

Next, Steve had asked him if he wanted to do a tour before asking when the projected date for his tour was.

“I think mid-2018 would be great for me,” he said honestly. That would be in in two years. When the hiatus would be over and One D would be back together. “No. I don’t want a tour.”

 

Back to the Grammy’s, Niall was perched on a chair with a make-up artist powdering his face, making sure his quiff was stiff—

“Not too high,” he complained.

“It won’t look natural if it isn’t,” she reasoned not sparing him a glance, setting his quiff higher and higher on his Irish head.

“El!” His mood perked immediately. “You’re here. Where did you disappear off to?”

Her bold lips stretched to a giggly grin. “I met Drake’s PA, who then led me to where Drake was and I asked for a selfies and—” She shoved her camera into his cakey made-up face. “Look how handsome he looks.”

“He’s alright. But, _whoa_ , Drake?!”

“Right?” she squeaked. “This is insane!”

It was insane. All of it.

Eleanor’s phone did not stop buzzing and soon she was walking away from him, phone pressed to her ear, talking so fast he wondered if she was even breathing. The make-up artist claimed she had finished and—he did not look that different, just, _powdered_.  And his hair standing upright on his head. He walked away from her as she started on Rihanna’s hair.  He would have said hello, except Rihanna was more of Harry’s friend which. To be fair, Harry was friends with everyone and he was not.

He aimlessly walked around and found himself in the Hall of Fame of previous Grammy winners. As he walked down the gold framed photos of the winners, he did not recognize them. Some won Best New Artist, many Record of the Year, others Best Contemporary Instrumental Album. Turning his head to the left, he saw many more categories: Best Rock Song, Best R&B Performance, Best Country Album, Best Large Jazz Ensemble Album…

He stopped walking. What even was _that_ category?

What all these categories had in common was that he did not recognize any of the artists. Save for Michael Jackson, having won many categories, among them Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Best Pop Solo Performance, Best Pop Vocal Album… and on and on photographs were lined up, each a new photo of Michael Jackson.

But… was this going to be him? Was he going to be a picture on a wall? After all is done and gone, was he, after everything he did for the industry, going to be just a photograph on the wall?

But even then, he still wanted in. He wanted to remain relevant in the industry, craved the applause, lived for the standing ovations, wanted the—

His tooshie was vibrating, his phone ringing. Zayn was on his caller ID.

“Hey Zaynie!”

_Zaynie? Are we still looking for a nickname?_

Zayn, since the weekend, had taken his family and his girlfriend, Gigi, to Tahiti for a vacation.  While he was positive it did not bother him that Zayn was away and would not be spending time with him this week, he was also positive it did bother him. A little. Alright, a lot. Well, 74 per cent positive.

“You refused Zee.”

He heard Zayn snort on the phone. _I just wanted to wish you good luck for the Grammy’s tonight. Break a leg._

“Thanks… I didn’t think you’d remember?”

 _Are you kidding? The Grammy’s are huge! Everyone who is everyone is going to be there and this is the best platform for you to promote_ This Town _._

Looking at Michael Jackson’s photo for Song of the Year, he answered, “I suppose. I mean, yeah, yeah, it’s great. It’s bloody fantastic.”

_You don’t sound excited, Niall. What’s wrong?_

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m just nervous about tonight.”

 _Niall_ –he sounded as if he had closed a door – _are you alright? Sure it’s the nerves and all, I mean, big people are attending but it’s deeper than that, isn’t it?_

Niall was floored by how much Zayn could _read_ from the mere sound of his voice over the phone. His bottom lip trembled and he could feel his eyes become wet.

_I’m still here. Take your time._

“I’m so sorry.”

_It doesn’t bother me, Niall._

It must have been a while – minute or four – as he had been staring at Michael Jackson’s photograph, his eyes rapidly blinking not wanting to ruin his make-up but most importantly not wanting to cry.

“I don’t want to be a picture on a wall,” he said, his voice watery and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I don’t want to win Best Pop Vocal Album and six, eleven years from now when the new artists walk down the Hall of Fame at the Grammy’s they see a black and white photograph of me and that’ll be all. That’s all I’ll be – some guy on a wall.

“All because of what? I was relevant at the time? That’s what earned me a photo on the wall? Not because I made Art but because I was _famous_.” He bitterly laughs. “Now I understand what Harry meant when he said he hated that word—you’re like someone without substance, you’re just a mannequin.” He paused. “You know what the sad part is?”

_What is?_

“I wanna come back. I want to constantly be invited to these fucking shows, be called on radio stations, be able to perform live _This Town_ , I want the lights, fame… applause. It’s so, so narcissist and addictive and I always want more. I don’t know what I want, Zayn,” he said, his voice small in the large room of photographs and memories.

He never did get to hear Zayn’s response, or thoughts, as there was another incoming call – Eleanor – and _crap, crap CRAP!_ He quickly said his goodbye and Eleanor was screaming in his ear about disappearing when everyone was looking for him when the show was _about to staRT! NOW!_

He all but ran to his assigned seat, in between Kalani Pe’a and Andy González and he knew neither of them. He was seated a row behind Taylor Swift and someone he did not know and three rows behind Beyoncé, Jay Z and—and was that Blue Ivy? Their adorable daughter?

At least he was five rows from front row. Nice view, too. He was sure to thank Eleanor for snagging his seat even if he would be sharing the event with whoever Kalani and Andy were. Or Pe’a and González since he did not formally know them.

The 89th Grammy Awards officially began with the golden curtains opening up with the opening show by Twenty One Pilots performing their hit song _Stressed Out_. It was already done and over with as the Hosts, Shay Mitchel and John Legend, walked on stage in their shimmering outfits with a welcoming Speech.

Niall unconsciously straightened his charcoal suit, his eyes looking through the other side of the audience at who’s-who in the audience. After all, if Harry could literally make friends with everyone in Hollywood, he could too… by scouting the friendly-looking ones. He was most definitely not befriending Beyoncé and Chance The Rapper.

An hour and a half in, it was break time. Great. His entire row had already fled, including Pe’a and González who he did not say two words to them. He should probably say _something_ if he ought to be networking, he thought. Thinking deeper, he had noticed that the audience were looking at each other; everyone was looking at everyone, unless you were an A-list celebrity like Rihanna and Jay-Z then you did not give three shits about other people. People gave _three shits_ about you.

He was not so he had to pay attention.

He began thinking, as the indigo cushioned seats barely had anyone sitting on them, that if Harry was here he would have already said hello to _half_ of the people here. He got off his seat, deciding to stretch his legs, and calm his stomach.

He got out his phone to ask where Eleanor was but she had already sent him an SMS saying she was with Drake’s PA and she would see him after the Grammy’s. Great, he was by himself.

He found the snack bar, everything free, and picked a bunch of Snickers bars, two cans of Coke, and one bottle of water and made his way to the Hall of Fame. He perched himself down, back against the white wall, and in front of him was none other than a photograph of the King of Pop.

Munching on his first Snickers bar, he got on WhatsApp to see if he had any messages. The first was the group with the three.

 **HARRY:** NIALLLLL!!! Remember to network and meet everyone, that’s how you stay IN with the crowd.

**_HARRY has changed the group subject from “4/4 ONE DIRECTION” to “89 TH GRAMMY: ADELE EDITION”_ **

**LIAM:** I Think You’re The Only One Who Has Mastered The Art Of Networking In The Entertainment Industry.

 **HARRY:** You have, too. Look at you and Usher tweeting each other, acting like homies.

 **LIAM:** He’s Just Cool, That’s All. He Said We Should Hit The Studio And Make Something Together.

 **HARRY:** THAT’S SICK LIAM!!!

 **LIAM:** Yeah. He Heard My Mixes That I Have Been Doing And He Said They Were Brilliant And Why I Hadn’t Released Them.

 **HARRY:** Why hadn’t you?

 **LIAM:** I liked singing with the band, Harry!!!

 **HARRY:** I realised my song in 2013 and doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to be in One D… UNLIKE SOMEONE

 **LIAM:** AHAHAH

 

Niall opened his can of Coke as he scrolled down to a new part of the conversation.

 

 **LIAM:** When Are You Honestly Going To Tell Him?

 **HARRY:** NEVER is when, Liam!

 **LIAM:** This Is Sick Harry! It’s Bloody Skinny Love Is What It Is And You’re Just Torturing Yourself.

 **HARRY:** ARE NOT!

 **LIAM:** If You Just Tell Louis That You’ve Been In Love With Him Since XFactor, What Is He Going To Do? Run? Hate You? Leave You Forever?

 **LIAM:** You’re not the FUCKTARD!

 **HARRY:** DON’T COMPARE ME TO THAT TRAITOR LIAM!!!

 **LIAM:** What Could Possibly Go Wrong If You Tell Louis?

Niall was wondering as he was finishing his second Snickers bar why they were talking about Harry’s infatuation-slash-love over Louis when he was right there in the group. Scrolling up a few conversations, he realized that Louis had been deleted from the group.

Oh.

He scrolled back down, at the back of his mind wondering why Liam and Harry could not just _private chat_ this conversation.

 **HARRY:** That I’ll lose the love of my life! Tell me anything WORSE than this Li.

 **LIAM:** But Think Of What You’ve Been Through: The Larry Rumors Constantly Being Denied, Your Friendship In Jeopardy Because Of Fans, HJPR Monitoring Your Tweets With Louis On All Your Social Media Accounts & Not To Mention, They Secretly Set Up Elounor And Up To This Date Louis Has Never Known.

 **HARRY:** She also didn’t know about the meeting. They literally set the both of them up so that it would be ‘love at first sight’ AND IT BLOODY WORKED!! WTF!?

 **HARRY:** P.S. It’s bloody annoying reading your texts because you capitalize every word!

 **LIAM:** And Not Forgetting Keeping YOU In The Closet.

**_LIAM has changed the group subject from “89 TH GRAMMY: ADELE EDITION” to “Capitalization Rules All Of Life!”_ **

**HARRY:** Least I bloody came out after the hiatus. THANK FUCK FOR THAT!! That’s one good thing the fucktard left for us – more freedom.

Sometime in towards the end of 2015, Harry Styles came out as an open bisexual and if Niall was being honest, Hollywood collectively heaved a sigh of relief and a lot of _finally_ s were breathed.

 **LIAM:** But It Didn’t Get You What You Want. Louis.

 **HARRY:** I do have him. I have him when he comes over for lunch. I have him as my bestfriend, I have him when I helped him set up the baby crib in Briana’s house, I helped him

Niall assumed Harry was still typing because he added nothing after the sentence. But Liam, being Liam – talented in talking quicker than Harry _and_ typing quicker than him – had already typed out his message.

 **LIAM:** But He’s NOT Yours. So Really, Do You Have Him?

 **HARRY:** I’m not talking about this anymore Liam.

 **LIAM:** At Least Tell Him, Please. I Can’t Keep Watching You Steal Glances His Way, The Hugs You Give Him Longer Than Normal, The Crinkles By Your Eyes When He Chooses You For Pranks, Jokes, Advice, Anything Really. When He Comes To You, You Fucking Light Up!!

Niall chuckled at the emoticons vomit of different colored love hearts in response.

 **LIAM:** At Least, Think About It? I Know Niall WILL Agree With Me.

 **HARRY:** He says hello. Can’t come to the phone.

 **LIAM:** Who?

 **HARRY:** Lou.

Harry attached an obscene amount of hearts, pink, yellow, blue, green and then a sea of red hearts.

 **LIAM:** Is he nervous?

 **HARRY:** He is. Still can’t believe he’s about to be a father to a bouncy baby boy!! I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

 **LIAM:** Someone Would Think It Was YOU Becoming A Father In A Few Minutes.

 **HARRY:** WE’RE* SO EXCITED!! Well, Louis went to the vending machine to get Oreo cookies but trust me, he IS.

 **LIAM:** Only You Would Know. You Read Louis Like Tea Leaves.

 **HARRY:** That’s what Jo always says.

 **HARRY:** She also says hi.

 **LIAM:** Is She Really There? 

**HARRY:** Of course. You know how Jo is.

 

Niall did know. Louis mother would drop everything in a heartbeat if something huge and important like his son’s birth to be there for Louis. He scrolled down some more.

 

 **HARRY:** Apart from Louis hating me for the rest of my life, what’s the second worst thing that can happen if I tell him I’ve been in love with him?

 **NIALL:** TELL HIM THAT YOU LOVE HIM, HARRY STYLES! IT’S BEEN YEARS, YEARS I REPEAT, & IF HE TAKES OFF FUCK HIM, OKAY?

Alright. Niall decided enough was enough he might as well make an appearance on the group. He gulped the last drop of his Coca Cola, took a bite off his fourth Snickers bar while opening his second can of Coca Cola.

 **HARRY:** Not okay. Never okay. I will never say “fuck off” to Loubear.

 **LIAM:** UGH HARRY!! We’re Not Doing This Again. What Are You Afraid Of?

 **NIALL:** He’s afraid of Louis.

 **LIAM:** Is This The Part Where I Go Offline Because Nialler’s A Better Psychiatrist Than Me?

 **HARRY:** Psychiatrist are those who give drugs. Unless Niall’s giving me tictacs…

 **LIAM:** AHAHAHAHHA

 **NIALL:** LMAOOO!!

 **LIAM:** You Know What I Meant Harry!!

 **HARRY:** Psychologist, obviously.

 **LIAM:** Answer Nialler’s Question

 **HARRY:** That he won’t love me back, obviously, and what he’ll do now that he knows. Basically, him is what I’m afraid of.

 **LIAM:** But He’s Your Soulmate!! What’s So Terrifying?

 **HARRY:** He’s more than that, Liam. He’s SO much more to me.

 **LIAM:** What Are You Typing So Much, Nialler?

 **HARRY:** Shut up and let him type. He’s the only one between you two who gives sound advice.

 **LIAM:** I Give Plently Of GOOD Advice!!!

 **HARRY:** On OTHER things, not love, romance, l’amour…

 **LIAM:** Remember When I Said “A Soulmate Is Someone Who Makes You Look Forward To Monday” And You Said It’s The Greatest Thing You’ve Ever Heard? REMEMBER?

 **HARRY:** That was back in 2013 when I had broken up with Taylor and you said she was not all that because she didn’t make me look forward to Monday.

 **LIAM:** GOOD ADVICE, INNIT?

 **NIALL:** I understand that you’re terrified of Louis’ reaction but remember back in the day when you took me to Mullingar to get my GCSEs results & you thought Louis was cute (YOUR WORDS)? & I said, ‘we’ve just all met, mate, chill’ & you just shook your head and whispered, ‘I know’ & you didn’t think I heard but I did?

 **HARRY:** Yeah?

 **LIAM:** It’ll Be A While Before He Types Again.

 **HARRY:** NOBODY TYPE TILL HORAN CONTINUES!!

 **NIALL:** You said that his laughter warms your body from the inside out. That when he says two teaspoons of sugar, you know he secretly means three. You can easily cry in front of him & not feel ashamed for it because it just feels right and that means that you trust him. When he says he is not hungry, you ask him if he has eaten, not taking his answer for face value. If he really isn’t, you make sure he takes something small, even if it is half a sandwich.

 **NIALL:** His comfort food is rice. For some reason he likes rice & I find it odd but it is & when he feels sad, rice & cheap wine are his go-to & you know this & he never said it. At least I don’t think so. Or maybe he just loves your cooking. While Tommo is the best one to make tea among us, you know HOW he prefers his tea. You know he’s ticklish, & where & you know he ONLY LETS YOU TICKLE HIM no one else is allowed because we all get punched, including his sisters!! Both of you can get really, really frustrated with each other, yell at the top of your voice, throw things around the room because you’re both mad but the next minute you’re all laughs & smiles like nothing happened just 6 minutes ago.

 **NIALL:** And do you remember what I said when we were on the train back to London?

 **HARRY:** You asked if I was afraid of heights?

 **LIAM:** Why? What Does This Have To Do With Everything?

 **HARRY:** I had told Niall that ‘I think I’m falling in love with Lou’ and he asked me ‘Are you afraid of heights?’

 **NIALL:** &  you said yes, you are, & I told you that you have fallen in love with him &

 **HARRY:** AND YOU SAID HE DID. IF JUST A LITTLE BIT.

 **NIALL:** I’M THE CAP’N OF THE LARRY SHIP. OBVIOUSLY I’M RIGHT.

 **HARRY:** And I’ve fallen deeper and deeper in love with him I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I tried with everyone but it’s always him. Always.

 **LIAM:** There You Go. Listen To What Nialler Has Said. If You Know All This About Louis And STILL Haven’t Gotten Sick Of Him, Tell Him. You Need A Peace Of Mind.

 **HARRY:** He makes me look forward to Mondays.

 **LIAM:** We KNOW!!

 **NIALL:** It’s up to you, Harry. You control this whole thing, whether you tell Louis or not, you control it.

 **LIAM:** But He Should DO It.

 **NIALL:** Whatever he wants, Payno.

 **HARRY:** Thank you Niall. Always HELPFUL!! I’ll think about it some more and let you know.

 **LIAM:** I Hope We Won’t Be Talking About This In 2019!

 **HARRY:** Very funny, PAYNE. Really. You’re hilarious!

 **HARRY:** OMG! OMG! BRIANA IS GIVING BIRTH!!

 **HARRY:** THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!

 **HARRY:** BRIANA IS GIVING BIRTH!

 **HARRY:** LOUIS

 **HARRY:** IS

 **_You_ ** _have added LOUIS to this chat group._

 **HARRY:** GOING

 **HARRY:** TO

 **HARRY:** BE

 **HARRY:** A

 **HARRY:** FATHER!!

**_LIAM has changed the group subject from “Capitalization Rules All Of Life!” to “FREDDIE TOMMO IS BORN!”_ **

**NIALL:** Tell him congrats!!

 **LIAM:** This is SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!!

 **HARRY:** He’s bloody scared. Won’t go in the delivery room. Jo went instead.

 **LIAM:** Typical Louis.

 **HARRY:** FREDDIE HAS BEEN BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORN!!

 **LIAM:** SIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!!

 **HARRY:** OMG! OMG! WE NEED TO TELL EVERYONE!! CALL EVERYONE!!

 **LIAM:** Isn’t This Louis Call To Tell Whoever He Needs To Tell, Not You?

 **HARRY:** He won’t mind.

 **LIAM:** Oh. OK. Can We Tweet It?

 **HARRY:** YESSSSSSSSSSSS!! TWEET NOW!! NIALL TELL PEOPLE AT THE GRAMMY’S!!!!

 **LIAM:** HA! That’s Be Awesome. When We Win (Anything) Nialler’s Going To Brag On And On About Louis’ Son Being Born Right Now And The Audience Will Be Stunned.

 **HARRY:** As long as Adele is there, no one cares. Adele will know about FREDDIE.

 **LIAM:** Is That All You Care About? Adele? What About A$AP?

 **HARRY:** He’s not even attending the Grammy’s, Payne. IDK what you’re even on about.

 **LIAM:** Jay-Z’s Gonna Be There. So It’d Be Awesome If He Heard About Freddie, Not Adele. What’s Adele Gonna Do?

 **HARRY:** She has children!

 **LIAM:** So does Jay-Z

 **HARRY:** One only!!

 

At this point he didn’t think either of them noticed he had stopped talking on the group. He opened Eleanor’s chat, several photos of her with Drake on there, some having Rihanna as well, and he sent a string of heart-eyes emoji to her and several blowing-kisses emoji. Zayn’s chat was empty, no new messages, the last one wishing luck for today for his performance of this single.

He clicked on the camera icon and took a photo of the King of Pop directly in front of him, and sent the photo to Zayn. Immediately, there was a double tick. His thumbs hovered above the keyboard, wondering what to write, what to say, what to add.

He sunk his teeth in a Snickers bar as his thumbs involuntarily moved but not typing anything out. Several moments passed and he got it.

 **NIALL:** I fucked my way up to the top.

 **NIALL:** This is my show.

 **NIALL:** I fucked my way to the top.

 **NIALL:** Go, baby, go.

 **NIALL:** For someone who LOVES Troye Sivan, I sure think I’ve memorized Lana Del Rey’s Ultraviolence album.

 **NIALL:** FYI the photo of MJ was meant to have the lyrics as caption. Didn’t think of the caption THEN. Just came to me.

 

His messages were all double ticked meaning that Zayn was close but just not close enough to open his WhatsApp app and read his messages. He updated his display photo and status and headed for Twitter.

He clicked on the ‘Create New Tweet’ icon on the bottom right and type out his tweets.

 **Niall Horan @OfficialNiall**  
_Will you still love me when I’m not longer young and beautiful?_ **  
**_Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?_

 

**~  ~  *  ~ ~**

 

 

Several awards, standings ovations, performances later, Niall was up next. He was a nervous, for sure. Looking out into the crowd it was not the same. It was not the same as performing in a stadium to almost 90,000+ teenagers, obviously, but for some reason this was scarier. Maybe it was because he was solo, because he was (sort of) starting out, promoting his single and all, maybe it was everyone at Capitol Records who have been with him every step of the way since that it was scarier than anything he has ever done before.

Adjusting the microphone closer to his lips, and lining his fingers to the strings on his majestic guitar, he shut his eyes. He began strumming his guitar, as all around him the sounds of his single began playing.

 

 _Waking up to kiss you and nobody's there_  
_The smell of your perfume still stuck in the air_  
 _It's hard_

 

He paused for two seconds, opening his eyes to look left at the band before singing-slash-humming the chorus.

  
  
_'Cause if the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you_  
_Drive highways and byways to be there with you_  
 _Over and over the only truth_  
 _Everything comes back to you_  
 _Mmmmm_

 

For the bridge, when he opened his eyes, the audience looked like stars against the night sky. They had their phones out, camera flash on, moving their phones side to side and a pang of nostalgia hit Niall in the back of his eyes.

****

_And I know that it's wrong_  
_That I can't move on_  
 _But there's something 'bout you_

 

His mind took him back in time. Back to when it was 5/5, in a stadium, singing _Little Things_. There was him strumming his guitar solo, Liam and Zayn sitting side by side on the stairs, Harry sitting beside him looking longingly to wherever Louis was at the time on stage. The fans, the adoring fans, would have their phones out, the lights across the stadium dimmed to magnify the bright lights from the fans’ phones making it look like the night sky.

And when it came time to sing his last verse, time to sing it all, he could not. The band kept playing however, but his lips were stuck, his eyes closed, and fingers glued to the strings of his baby. It was not that he suddenly got nervous, had a panic attack, but the memory of One Direction hit him harder than he thought it would.

If he shut his eyes tighter, he could pretend that Harry was sat beside him right now on a stool just like him, picking at the holes on his jeans. He could pretend to hear Louis and Liam having a right laugh to his left, and if he concentrated extra hard, he could hear Zayn. He could hear Zayn singing his _out of this world_ highs that he could not honestly sing, could never (dare) reach.

If Niall just concentrated, he would be right back on stage and he would still be in One Direction.

But he was not. He was here, at the Grammy’s where the audience now were confused and perplexed at the stretched silence from him. The band had stopped playing, the lights were still on him – something he knew Eleanor has screamed at the Camera and Lights to let him cool himself – and his mic was on, too.

He leaned forward, bringing his lips real close, and sang the last part of his song, no guitar, no instruments, just his voice. So raw, so pure.

 _You still make me nervous when you walk in the room_  
_Them butterflies—they come alive when I'm next to you_  
 _Over and over the only truth_  
 _Everything comes back to you_  
 _Mmmm_  
 _Everything comes back to you_  
 _Mmmm_  


**~   ~   *   ~   ~**

 

He had gone online to see the comments on his performance. Well, specifically to see if Zayn had seen his performance. Knowing him, he was probably tanning, his girl—Gigi beside him, and his family around them, making merry in the sun.

But still, he got on Twitter to check if there was any comment. Nothing. His last activity was a selfies of him and Doniya with the sun somewhere near them. He checked his Instagram, nothing, Snapchat was unlikely as they did not speak on Snapchat. His last result was WhatsApp.

 **NIALL:** Go, baby, go.

 **NIALL:** For someone who LOVES Troye Sivan, I sure think I’ve memorized Lana Del Rey’s Ultraviolence album.

 **NIALL:** FYI the photo of MJ was meant to have the lyrics as caption. Didn’t think of the caption THEN. Just came to me.

 **ZAYN:** Lana is a sick artist

First when he read the message he was confused but scrolling back up he realized he spammed him with Ultraviolence lyrics.

 **ZAYN:** She’s surreal, honestly, and if  was not dating Gigi, she’d be my MCM everyday

 **ZAYN:** YOU KILLED IT!! YOU WERE FUCKING AMAZING!!

 **ZAYN:** CONGRATS! CONGRATS! EVERYTHING WAS LEGIT COOL

 **ZAYN:** Did you set up the stage that way?

 **ZAYN:** Did you see the lights? How everyone removed their phones and it looked like the stars in the sky? Did you feel the magic?

 **ZAYN:** This is what you and I do. We live for this, not for photographs on a wall, Niall.

 **ZAYN:** People do not love you because they get new photos, new songs, new gossip on you but because you pick up your guitar each morning, with a large smile on your face, and sing.

Niall was floored by  it all. He was biting hard on his bottom lip, sure to taste blood, and his eyes fluttered shut at the memory of Zayn, being, well, Zayn. Niall never got the chance to reply seeing as Eleanor was skipping down the Hall Of Fame.

“How did you know to find me?”

“Sarah Jarosz saw you coming this way.”

“Who is that?—On a second note I don’t care.”

Eleanor sat herself beside him on the floor at the Hall of Fame, in the same spot where Niall had been earlier in the evening.

“She’s been nominated for Best American Roots Performance. And she won it.”

Niall raised an eyebrow in response.

“And Kalani Pe’a won her category.”

“Great.”

He knew that Eleanor wanted to know about his performance, mainly why he had paused and sang the rest of his song acoustically. But he also knew she wouldn’t ask until he gathered his thoughts first to give her a clean version of events, or got drunk together and he would go on a rant – either way was fine, as long as Niall got it off his chest.

“They didn’t ask about the Grammy’s. About me.”

“Who?”

“The boys. Everyone did. You, Ma, Greg, Zayn, even his bloody girlfriend tweeted me luck on my performance… but nothing from them.”

“We all live in our bubble for a little while we don’t notice others.”

Niall pondered on her cryptic one-liner and he supposed it was true. Liam was caught up in proving himself worthy of Chelsea Football Club, Louis was busy with preparing himself on being a father, Harry was working himself crazy with his acting role Dunkirk which was in the final stages and was working, already, in his new acting role in _Beauty and the Beast_ – Harry was Beast (and he would be acting alongside Emma Watson, something _he_ was stoked about).

“How’s Drake?”

Eleanor instantly grinned. “He wants us to hang out. He asked if we were free on Thursday and I said yes.”

“We?”

“Yes. You’re coming with. He is having a small party – which knowing Drake is quite large, according to his PA – and he invited us to come along.”

“You know he probably had no party and he just wants to see you.”

“No! He really did have a party,” – Niall exaggeratedly rolled his eyes– “and  I asked his PA if he had a party planned already and she said yes.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. And why I’m _I_ coming?”

“I can’t go alone, Nini. I’ll make a right mess of myself!”

“You don’t need me to be like a buffer, or summat, to Drake. It’s bloody Drake, El. _Drake_. Just in case that Topshop-filled brain of yours has short-circuited.” This earned him a punch on his thigh. “OW! What was that for?” Eleanor simply shrugged. “For a girl who has a high-pitched tone, you sure hit hard.”

“Greg called.” Niall froze in his place. “He told me about the website. What you, Greg and M were all doing.”

Niall gnawed on his bottom lip. Yes, it was true. Niall had taken the contract that Eleanor and Max had signed to Greg, who was a Contract attorney to look through it and find loopholes then fight in court to have _The Trend Pear_ be soley Eleanor’s.

In the end, Greg called him during the weekend of Liam’s football match stating the website and all its contents were, now, officially Eleanor’s and Max would have to pay large sum of money for various offenses that Niall was buzzing too much to _hear_ them over phone.

“Well?” he prompted.

“I don’t want you to be disappointed, Nini, but I don’t want the website.”

Niall’s brows furrowed together and he sputtered a, “What?”

“When I lost the website, I was mad at Max for playing me. For going behind my back and kicking me out of something we worked so, so hard on. But you came along, traveling came along, Youtube came along, and now I’m happy with what I have.”

“But you were so good at your blog.”

“I’m good at hair styling but you don’t see me making a career out of it.” Niall opened his mouth to speak but Eleanor beat him to it. “I called M, explained everything, and I think she understood. She just said Greg worked so hard to get me the website, and don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. Immensely. But—”

“I get it,” he said hastily. “I think.” He shrugged one shoulder. His eyes glazed over the black and white photograph of Michael Jackson just as Eleanor rested her head on his right shoulder. He pocketed his phone, and quickly took a snapshot of it, something sad and admirable about it _now_ in the daylight – er fluorescent light – seeming right.

With the photo tagged in his Tweet, and tagging his bestfriend Eleanor, too, he tweeted:

 

 **Niall Horan @OfficialNiall**  
_Macklemore once said: Last night the skies turned purple. I think they turned black and white. R.I.P Michael Jackson pictwitter.com/as2iakUn335QI_

 

“I hope you know, deep down, I am extremely grateful for what you’ve done for me.” She squeezed his bicep. “But I’ve got all I need here and now.”

Niall kissed the top of her head before resting his head on hers.

“When it’s time to let go, it really is. No use of holding onto something that has a closed door in front of it.”

In that moment, in the grand scheme of things, he understood why Zayn left the four of them back in Hong Kong, in the year 2015.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed the chapter ☺  
> YOU should take a listen to Light Tunnels, pure pure TUNE ♫♫♫ and just made sense when was riting the chapter. KUDOS & COMMENTS highly appreciated and welcome - whether -ve or +ve - really.
> 
> ta!


	7. Vogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks and red gummy bears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENJOY ☻

 

> **On an epitaph: When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a skull.**

 

“Have you thought about what you’ll be doing for your album?”

Eleanor and Niall had taken the afternoon off, and had tucked themselves in in an unknown restaurant in Brooklyn that sold fatty, oily foods that really, Niall thought were undeniably heaven.

Niall sucked the BBQ sauce off his thumb. “I’ve been talking with Shawn Mendes and he thinks it’s a brilliant idea. You’ll set up a meeting?”

“Course.”

“If I’m being honest, I haven’t started on my album, let alone thought about it. I’m sort of… floating around?” he phrased it as a question, and then shook his head. “But I do have an idea.”

Eleanor set down her cocktail glass. “What’s the idea?”

“I think I’ll be raw.”

“What do you mean raw?”

“I want to make a body of art. When you turn on the radio,” he began and Eleanor was all ears in. He had a fry in his left hand, it occasionally moving with his hand movement, “the first thing you hear is a quick single. In a few weeks, six tops, you don’t hear it because there is always a new single out, a new EP out, and I don’t want that.”

“What do you want?”

“Forget being cool. I want to be raw, I want to be hurtful, I want to be sad, to be sassy, a little assy. Want to be plenty of colors, when people listen to my album, I want it to be bursting in technicolour and at the same time it should be plain black and white. Or sepia.”

“All that sounds different from what you did in One Direction.”

“I also want to be One Direction. Like, the music we made.”

Eleanor chuckled. “I think you’re going mad with finding your identity.”

“I told Steve the motive behind my album is going to be abandonment. Everything else will just fall into place.”

“Th—that’s brilliant.” Eleanor was awed. Really, she was. “You’re going to speak about something that no one knows about you, Nini. Here you are going to show the world your biggest fear.”

“Through music. It’s going to be, sort of my last album.”

“Last album? Solo-wise or One D-wise?”

“If I don’t get all of us back together before the end of this year, like brothers, then there really is no reason for me to stay in the music industry. My album will be the last the industry hears of me.”

Her lips part wide as do her eyes. She could not believe what she was hearing! Was Niall implying he was thinking of quitting the music industry? For good? Was her bestfriend giving up his guitar and voice for… for whatever reason?

“You told Steve all of this?”

He nodded. “He thought I was mad, to be honest. But he understood and said he, and Capitol, were behind me every step of the way.” He abruptly laughed and Eleanor raised a questioning eyebrow. “If I had said the same thing when we were with our old management they would’ve laughed and said, ‘Be realistic, Niall! See you in studio at 3AM.’ It’s so much freer now.”

A waiter came to their table just then who took away their plates of food. Niall ordered for desert – milkshake and chocolate cake – and Eleanor ordered for bubblegum tea. Their order came in between their conversation regarding why 7Up and Sprite have the same bottle color.

“Because green is a sick color!”

“Is not.”

“Excuse me,” Niall cleared his throat and the waiter paused in his tracks, “do you think that Sprite and 7Up made the right choice in having the same green color for their bottles?”

The waiter blinked. He sputtered a, “Uh…” his eyes darting between a rolling-her-eyes Eleanor and a determined Niall. “I… I’ve actually never noticed that they have the same color,” he confessed. And before Niall could get another question in –or comment – the waiter was off.

“Must be a 7Up fan. No wonder he’s so uptight,” mumbled Niall and he hummed after he had taken a large sip of his soda milkshake. “This is delish!”

“Delish?”

“I need to stop hanging out with you.”

“I don’t say delish. I say ‘dece’ or ‘delicious’ but never delish. No one says delish.”

“It’s hip.”

Eleanor groaned into her bubblegum tea. “I can’t believe I hang out with a guitarist who is literally a hundred and ten on the inside.”

“What can I say? I’m an old soul,” he said with a shit-eating grin. And it was true, really. Anything that sounded active, whether it was camping, club hopping, ice-skating, or even jumping on a trampoline, he was already making a strategic exit from those plans. He would much rather _sit_ on a trampoline, anyway.

“You and Zayn have been making Twitter headlines lately,” she commented airily. “Lots of trending topics, mostly about Ziall, the hopes of a reunion of the band, blah blah blah, but mostly Ziall. Do you know many Twitter accounts have been opened just shipping you two? As friends, of course.”

“I—I actually don’t know. I don’t go on Twitter for that reason.”

“Oh yes. You go on Twitter and stalk his Twitter page.”

“Do not.”

“You literally Like every single Tweet he tweets, even if it’s just talking to a fan. You save all the selfies he has on Twitter, not forgetting you screenshot his selfies on Instagram. Oh! How could I forget that you follow Zayn Malik update accounts just to keep up with him?”

“I ta—I don’t—I also do—Insta—Twitter is a li—What I do with my Twitter account is my life!” he exclaimed, finally finding his words. “And how do you know about the screenshots?”

“Do you forget we share a laptop?”

Niall groaned as he took a bite of the chocolate cake. “I’m getting a new one. Not even joking this time.”

Eleanor simply laughed at him. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, it’s an amazing thing. You two are now friends and you said that Liam asked about Zayn.”

“Yeah. He just wanted to know how he’s doing and I told him, ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ He hasn’t talked to Zayn yet, despite me giving him his number.”

She gawked. “Liam has Zayn’s number?”

“You have his number after grovelling that you need it in case of emergencies. I don’t see why it’s such a surprise Liam has his number.”

Eleanor sharply ignored that comment about her. “What about you and Zayn’s friendship. All good?”

Niall nodded, his lips round his straw. “Is it weird that I want to spend all my time with him? Like, I look forward to the time we spend together – even if his cousins are always there. Or his bloody girlfriend.”

Eleanor lifted her on fleek eyebrow. “I take it from your tone you don’t like her?”

“No. No, no, no. That makes me sound like a jerk. I.” Instead of continuing, he occupied his mouth with the cake they were both sharing. After a stretch of silence, he said, “It’s not that I don’t like her, it’s just that I never thought she was there.”

“What do you mean?”

Niall rolled his eyes tiresomely. “I mean, I knew that he had a girlfriend but I didn’t know he _had_ a girlfriend. She wasn’t in the picture per se.”

“You deleted her. Literally,” she added when it all started making sense. “You actually don’t like her.”

“No. Not tru—”

“You want Zayn all to yourself but nope, no you don’t. You don’t want Zayn to be someone’s so it was easier to delete her from whatever computer thing you have in your head.”

Niall sputtered.

“News flash, _Niall_ , life is not a computer. You can’t delete people from life, they’re there in his life because he wants them there.”

“You’re horrible person when someone wants comfort.”

“What about his cousins? You hardly complain about them and they are around more than Gigi.”

“Can’t hate family.”

“But you can with a girlfriend?”

Niall shrugged nonchalantly. “She can be replaced. That’s what Beyoncé said.” Eleanor rolled her eyes at him and he, clearing his throat, sang part of the song Beyoncé’s song, _Irreplaceable_. “ _You must not know about me / I can have another you in a minute._ ”

“Are you actually singing the song?”

He replied by leaning forward on the table, his left hand gripping the milkshake glass. “ _So don’t you  ever for a second get to thinking / You’re irreplaceable.”_

“You’re not actually…,” she left the sentence to peter out, still in shock that Niall was singing, proving his point about Gigi.

“ _Cause the truth of the matter is / Replacing you is so easy.”_

Her hand was on her face, covering it in shame as by now the restaurant was turned to their table, wondering who was belching out Beyoncé’s _Irreplaceable_. But she was also proud, watching Niall own the song, his eyes shut as he knew the lyrics, his upper body swaying to the sound of his own voice.

 _To the left, to the left_  
To the left, to the left  
_Everything you own in the box to the left_

The restaurant by now was watching Niall, all eyes on him, as he sang Beyoncé, giving it his all, using his spoon as a microphone.

 _You must know not know about me, you must not know about me_  
_I could have another you in a minute_  
 _Matter of fact, he’ll be here in a minute_

In the distant, the two best friends heard clicking on cameras and then a round of applause. The entire restaurant were slapping their hands together, a few whistles here and there, and Niall stood up from his chair and dramatically bowed down.

“So,” Niall laughed, once the restaurant had returned to normal and Eleanor was shaking her head with a grin on her face, “my point is Gigi can be replaced that’s why it didn’t hit me that he had a girlfriend.”

“And you used Beyoncé to make your point?”

Niall laughed. “Course. Bey is—”

He never finished his sentence as two fans came over to their table to ask for autographs and a photo with Niall _and_ Eleanor, as well.

“We love your travel blog,” gushed one fan with black hair.

“Thank you, loves,” Eleanor smiled widely. “It means a lot to me.”

“We’ve literally written down on our Bucket List the places where we’ll be going and you’ve given us so many ideas.”

Eleanor giggled. “I’m glad I helped.”

“There are other gorgeous places she goes to but refuses to blog about,” Niall chipped in.

“Because I don’t have time,” she said with a glare at Niall.

“And we just want to say that we think it’s a mature decision to be friends with Zayn,” said the other fan with red hair. “And I hope there will be a reunion in the near future, too.”

“We’ll see. And thank you.”

“Is Zayn being, I don’t know, friendly?” inquired the one with black hair.

“He is. He’s really nice. We’re getting along well.”

The two fans seemed satisfied with that and they left the two of them in peace. Eleanor ordered another round of bubblegum tea before they left the restaurant – only to discover that their meal had been paid for by a couple of fans (not the ones who approached them) who all chipped their money to pay for their meals.

“That was sweet of them.” Eleanor slipped her hand round Niall’s bicep as they walked down the busy streets of New York in the late afternoon. “I hope they didn’t spend so much money.”

“Our bill was not even 30 dollars,” he pointed out.

“You’re a big star so you wouldn’t understand what 30 dollars can do.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I have money now so I don’t know what 30 dollars can do. But really, it’s Harry you should be giving this speech not me. He buys coats for over a thousand dollars!”

“But they’re chic.”

Niall snorted. “Are not. They look dumb, and odd—”

“But they’re edgy and perfect.”

“You would only know that because you’re this fashion expert person.”

“I am,” she preened.

“Should’ve made you my stylist and not my PA.”

“I need to put my degree to good use,” she huffed. “Can’t waste four years in Uni and never use it.”

“There it is,” said Niall suddenly, pointing to a shop a couple of steps ahead, “finally found it: Chess Forum.”

“I don’t know why you even want to buy a chess piece. You don’t play.”

“It’s for, Ma,” he explained. “She kept talking about it last Christmas saying how the Chess Forum was going to close soon because there were no customers anymore – people opting to play online – and she said she wanted one before they closed.”

“She said so?” she asked incredulously.

“You know Ma, always asking for things indirectly. So I’m buying her one before Chess Forum close.”

She squeezed his bicep before they took a step in.

 

~ ~ * ~ ~

 

“Are you sure?”

Niall controlled his eye roll at Zayn. Earlier, Niall had aggressively hinted on WhatsApp that he did not have plans and that, yes, most definitely he could accompany Zayn to his photoshoot for ELLE magazine this afternoon. No trouble at all.

Truth is, he _did_ have plans. Plans involving promoting his single that he sent a quick text to Eleanor telling her to cancel the interview. He most definitely did not reply to her hundreds of texts asking _why am I cancelling?_ And informing him to keep low because she lied that he was under the weather hence the last-minute cancellation.

Niall, later contacting a friend of a friend to deliver 76 boxes of Lindt chocolates. Yes, he did have 76 boxes of Lindt delivered to the hotel room just for her. (He’s nice like that.)

“Yes, Zaynie, I am.”

He heard a snort behind him. “Are you still looking a nickname for me?”

He turned around on the spot and smiled widely at the half-Pakistani lad. “Course I am. I’ll find you a nickname that you’ll fall madly in love with and you’ll wonder how idiots never thought of it.”

“Doubt it.”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Inside Zayn’s revved Cadillac, he reversed out of the Hilton parking lot and onto the main road, heading straight for the abandoned house somewhere in Brooklyn where the ELLE photoshoot would be taking place. Niall was just glad he got to relive Zayn driving. There was just something _hot_ and _attractive_ about Zayn changing gears, one hand on the steering wheel, sunnies on, wind in his hair, and dare he say, swag on.

With a new hair color: lavender.

“What was the last quote you read?” Niall asked, his nervousness growing on him.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he slowed down the Cadillac to a red light. “Oh. It’s a quote from Will Carleton and it goes: To appreciate heaven well, ‘tis goof for a man to some fifteen minutes of hell.”

“Who is Carleton?”

“An American poet. What about you?”

It was here where Niall had two options: to say something meaningful, something profound by Mandela or King Louis XIV. He could rummage through his brain for a quote so powerful, so deep about love, family, politics, something that would make him appear smart, clever, something that Zayn would raise his eyebrows in wonder because Niall’s so smart a—”

“Niall?”

Or he could go the other way.

“Chicken soup rarely has chicken.”

“What?”

“It’s something I read yesterday,” he meekly said. He looked to his right to find Zayn frowning at him curiously.

“I’m joking,” he laughed to ease the tension.

“… Okay.”

“Albus Dumbledore once said: happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

When in doubt, Niall always found himself telling Eleanor that whenever and wherever to quote Harry Potter. Always. And in that moment, he thought so too.

“Who is Dumbledore?”

“He’s the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Was,” he corrected himself. “He died.”

The light turned green and the Cadillac vroomed into action. “Hog—Is that a quote from Harry Potter, Niall?”

Niall sheepishly laughed in his seat. “It is. I love Harry Potter. Big fan, I am. I reckon so.”

“I’ve never once seen you with the book or watching the movie.”

“It’s something recent. New,” he added looking out of his window. “And it’s been my comfort. Like, how people have comfort food?” he stated and he hoped Zayn nodded because he was looking at the passing lines on the concrete. “Mine is Harry Potter. I can watch all eight movies in one sitting.”

“I thought there are seven books?”

“The seventh book was split into two for the movie. Was too long.”

“Why do you like it? I mean it’s just magic wands and castles and an old vibe and like cool animals, that was sick but really that’s it.”

“I like magic,” he whispered. “I like the fact that if my life is a mess, spinning so fast, that I can pick up a Harry Potter book, whether it’s reading what Professor Lockhart is lying about, or the struggles Draco Malfoy goes through when he gets the Dark Mark, and forget myself.

“And I know it sounds crazy but no matter what, or how much time has passed, Hogwarts will always be there for me.”

And that was true, really. Niall had many secrets but one that he did not want to share, one that he only gave the fans snippets of, was his love for Harry Potter. And of course the master of it all, J.K. Rowling. He loved _Philosopher’s Stone_ when he first bought it off the shelf and did not put it down. He bought the rest of the six books and read them, shutting off the world, immersing himself in the wizarding world he almost felt as if he was there.

He often pictured himself being Sorted into Slytherin (because Draco Malfoy was there)(Niall had a huge crush on him), donned in green colored robes, and attending his classes. There would be Professor Snape where he would be a champ in Potions, or he would have some hideous looking pet to look after thanks to Hagrid, or stare into a crystal ball trying to decipher his future with Professor Trelawney.

He simply wished he was in Hogwarts.

“You did look like that blond one, so maybe you have a chance at Hogwarts.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head. “Draco’s his name.”

“Draco. That’s your nickname,” Zayn said as if he had just discovered electricity. “You’ll be Draco whenever I want.”

“Do you want children?” Niall blurted and how he regretted every second of silence that passed with Zayn darting glances his way. “Sorry—I just wan—You don’t have to ans—”

“It’s fine, Niall,” he chuckled, his hand reaching for Niall’s and squeezing it for a second. “And yes, I do.”

“What did you have for breakfast?”

“Hold on. What about you?”

 

_“Is she alright?”_

_Niall looks up from his laptop where he has been watching Youtube videos on teen moms talking about their experience being, well, teen mothers. Louis was standing before him, hands by his sides, and his bottom lip stuck between his lips._

_“Who?” he asks._

_“Keira Knightley… Eleanor! Who else?”_

_“Why?” he drawls._

_Louis momentarily looks behind him – Harry, Niall notices – and nods his way then gives Niall his attention. “I want to know how she’s doing.”_

_“You don’t get to ask.”_

_“I do.”_

_“No you don’t.”_

_“Niall, please, I’m really worried.”_

_“You don’t!”_

_“Yes, Niall, I care about her.”_

_Niall scoffs. “Now you care? Now when she has literally gone through_ hell _? Now is when you grow a pair and care about her welfare?”_

_“Is she or is she not?”_

 

Niall had simply walked away, laptop tucked underneath his armpit, not answering him and clucking his tongue as he walked past him and Harry. Truth be told, Eleanor was doing _badly_.

It started off with the first week after the dreadful abortion with her sleeping the days away, the nights sitting on the edge of her bed, not moving for _hours_. It scared Niall, really, and he started spending his time in _her_ apartment. He would cook for her (she rarely ate), making sure she drank enough water, got some warmth on her skin, and cuddled her at nights (except Niall suspected she never fell asleep).

Second were the tears. And not just the streaming-down-my-cheeks tears, but the howling at the moon with snot and blurry vision tears, the kind that you do not think will ever end. The tears that feel like a damn has been open. The tears shed so much that there is no more air left in you.

He would hear them, all the time. He would be sitting on the kitchen counter, trying to distract her by talking about Harry Potter (she actually listened, normally) and why Drarry was a better fit than Dramoine and he would see it, he would see the split second when her tears were about to burst and when she willed them back. He would hear it behind the bathroom door, the shower running, except her wails were louder than the running water. He would hear it when she thought he was asleep but he was not and for what felt like the entire night she would hiccup and sniff… and Niall… Niall wanted to stick his hand down Louis’ throat and pull out his fucking lungs.

Third were the nightmares. Normally, she would get a few hours of sleep which was lucky but nearly two-out-of-three of those hours she would have horrid nightmares, her unborn baby haunting her mind as she slept. She would wake up screaming in Niall’s chest from where she was huddled close, and he would hold her, her body shaking and sweaty, until she calmed down. One time it was so bad, so scary, she did not _want_ to sleep for fear of her baby haunting her so, at three-forty-nine in the morning, they watched re-runs of _How I Met Your Mother_ until mid-morning where she fell asleep, her head tucked under Niall’s chin.

That morning, Niall stomped his way to Louis’ house.

_“You’re a fucking dickless asshole and I hope you never have a peace of mind,” he angrily growls at Louis who stared back at him, gobsmacked._

_“Niall,” Harry says, in a warning tone._

_“What are you tal—”_

_Niall visibly grinds his teeth, his fists curled and turning white. “You. Don’t. Even. Care about Eleanor, do you? You don’t even bother to come and see how she’s doing? You know your mother came by the other day to check up on her? Did. You. Know?”_

_“She told me,” he whispers._

_“And where were you?”_

_“She doesn’t want to see me, as both of you clearly keep telling me.”_

_Niall’s fuse breaks as he picks the first thing his hand could grab – a white vase – and smashes it on the wall where there is a portrait of OT5 at their second BRITs Awards._

_“She’s paralysed,” he supplies, taking a step back because if his hands get a hold of Louis, he… he is seeing red right now and he does not trust himself, simply put. “She cannot do basic things: eating is an issue, getting up in the morning is hard, her website is not doing well because how can she take care of her website when she can barely take care of_ herself _?”_

_“Nial—”_

_“You know the bloody line that you wrote in Story of my Life, ‘time is frozen’?” Niall asks, and he is not expecting a reply because he answers himself, “That’s Eleanor’s life.”_

 

It was Louis’ mother, Johannah, who suggested it, in the end, the one thing she thought would help Eleanor get through it all. She warned him that it was not fool proof, that there would be days where it would come back to her, but this would ease some of the nightmares and aches.

He did it all.

He began by filing for a burial permit. As it was being processed, he went to take a visit to Dr Chires. Second was going to the London Cemetery and booking a spot in the ground, which, because he was Niall Horan from One Direction, was done within a day. Next, was buying a coffin, baby-sized, which were hard to find as they always had adult-sized coffins. He did find one, it was indigo on the outside, fluffy lilac on the inside, and he drew doodles, anything he knew Theo liked, he drew it on the coffin.

Well, he had it drawn on. He was _Niall Horan_ , after all.

The funeral took place on a Thursday, and only a few people were invited. Johannah accidentally mentioned the Thursday event and Louis showed up, as they were lowering the coffin onto the ground with the foetus inside the closed indigo box.

He stood there, behind the small crowed that watched Eleanor throw the first dirt onto the coffin. She had gripped his bicep, hard, and Niall turned to see what caused it: Louis standing right behind her, dressed in a black suit with a large frown on his brows.

“What are you doing here?” he had demanded Louis.

“Came to pay my respect.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, Niall. I do feel bad f—”

Niall’s loud scoff stopped him mid-sentence. Eleanor’s grip on his bicep was tightening, her fingernails digging through his own suit to his skin.

“Please, Niall,” it was Harry speaking, “we’re here to pay our respect. We don’t mean any harm.”

“Where were any of you when Eleanor had to go through all of this? Where were either of you when she needed someone to take her to the hospital?”

“I—I was busy,” Louis answered weakly.

“For some dumb meeting, huh?”

“It wasn’t du—Listen, I want to say goodbye to my son—”

“He’s not yours.”

Louis, Harry, and Niall had turned to Eleanor, speaking up for the first time. Louis’ eyes lingered on her, Harry’s eyes on Louis, and Niall wincing at the growing pain on his arm.

“What do you mean he’s not mine? That child is as much mine as he is yo—”

“He’s not.”

“Wha—”

“Stop it, Louis!” It was Niall, stepping in. “You were never there. You weren’t there from the beginning so you have no right to call the baby your son.”

“And you do?”

“At least I showed up. I was there every step of the way when all Eleanor needed  was you to be there. You did not raise a finger to help her, not when she pleaded to keep the baby, not when she begged you not to abort, and not when she screamed as she had painful contractions during the abortion. You weren’t there once.”

“Am I the only here who was thinking realistically? The only one who saw that raising a child at this moment was not a good thing?”

“Since when is raising a child not a good thing?” Niall growled.

“That’s n—”

“I think you should leave.”

“I got as much right as anyone to be here an—”

And Niall had _lost_ it, then. He took a swing to Louis’ left cheek, then another to his right cheek with his right fist, hearing something crack, whether it is Louis’ jaw or his knuckles, he did not care.

He grabbed him by his collar, brought his knee to Louis’ jaw, painfully hard, and poor Louis could not get a punch in. With each punch, each jaw smacking, Niall saw red. Now, Niall was not a violent lad, he was more of a shout-it-out instead of punch-it-out, but now, at this very moment, it was hard to believe so.

Louis had his back on the dirt ground, headstones and tombstones rising above him, he weakly defended himself. He could not feel his face, feeling as if it was numb but he could feel the pounding ache on the back of his head increasing with each hit Niall smacked his head on the dirt ground.

In the back of his mind, Niall knew he was going to kill Louis. He _could_ kill Louis. He was seeing red, shouting at him:

“Don’t deserve to be here!”

He lifted his body by his collar and threw him back on the ground, a scream rolling of Louis’ bloody mouth.

“How dare you think you have the right when all you were was a scumbag?”

Louis brought his hands above his face, preventing more fists colliding to his slacking jaw but he was weak, Niall not only cracking Louis’ knuckles out of his face, but bringing his fists to his eyes, hit after hit, Louis barely could keep them open.

“You’re the reason why the baby is dead.”

And…

“You’re the reason there is this funeral in the first place.”

At this point, Louis had stopped holding onto Niall’s shirt, too weak, too helpless to do anything. His jaw was loose and two, three more fist punches he swore it would snap off his face. He could only taste the metallic blood in his mouth, feeling like all his ribs had been broken and were poking his lungs, heart, intestines… all his insides and did he swallow a tooth?

Yes, Louis most definitely swallowed a broken tooth. And… and why could he not see? Why was his vision blurry?

_Niall._

One minute Niall was straddling Louis’ hips his arms throwing blows to him, the next he was on his feet, arms tight around his middle with warm air hitting the side of his face but no words were registering. He was in a daze as he watched Harry lifting Louis’ body off the floor, tears down his cheeks, screaming to Liam but he could not hear the words.

 _Niall_.

His eyes landed on Louis who simply looked like a boneless human. Harry was struggling to hold Louis’ body up, struggling to keep his head from hanging off his shoulder. He could see him shake him, at the same time shouting something at Liam that did not reach his ears. Niall swallowed. Louis looked dead, is what is was.

Niall shoved whoever was holding onto him, pushing them behind, turning around to find it was his brother, Greg. He dragged his feet away from him, away from Eleanor, away from his brothers, away from _all these bloody people_ and he kept walking, passing tombstones with names of people, faceless names, important and unimportant people, the rich and the poor, the sick and the healthy, blacks and whites, all of them cramped here together.

He stopped walking at a safe distance from them and collapsed onto the dirt ground. His hearing snaps into him like an elastic band and he can hear the faint cries of someone, and even the fainter sounds of an ambulance.

_Niall!_

He winced, trying to move his fingers…

Eyes glazed at the headstone before him. Some fella named John Srike, died in 1845 and his headstone read: _‘Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch._

In the distance, he could hear the paramedics coming forth, someone bitterly crying, hushed tones but he did not care. His arms felt heavy beside him, he could barely feel his fingers, and his head laid back against some poor person’s headstone.

He counted on his breathing, feeling his lungs get heavy, hearing in the background someone still crying, but he worked on his breathing. He read John Srike’s epitaph once more, and again, until it was inked on the inside of his skull. ‘ _Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch_.

He supposed it was.

 

“Niall!”

Niall blinked. He was in a car. With Zayn. In the year 2016, January. Talking about… he does not remember.

“Wh-what?” he mumbled looking to Zayn who was looking at him with concern, hand on the wheel the other on his shoulder.

“I’ve been calling your name but you were totally zoned out. You were staring at your hand like it wasn’t yours.”

“What?”

“Are you okay, Niall? You seem pretty dazed.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “And to answer your question, yes, I’d like kids. Would do anything to protect them.”

It was as if Zayn could sense the storms happening in Niall’s head, so he kept quiet, turned up Troye Sivan playing on the Cadillac speakers heading to the ELLE photoshoot location.

 

~ ~ * ~ ~

 

Niall purposefully put his phone on silent, not wanting to see the chaos going on in cyberspace. Yes, he had cancelled an interview, an important one with the massive Vogue magazine opting for an afternoon with Zayn.

He knew Eleanor was getting shit for cancelling the interview, knew that Steve was simultaneously scolding Eleanor and calling him – 24 missed calls – to ask where the bloody hell he was. The PR team, too, had been ringing his phone non-stop. Not only that, Louis, for some reason and somehow, got wind of his interview with Vogue and also knew he had skipped it. Judging from the hundreds of messages on the “4/4 ONE DIRECTION” group, he was pissed.

Niall, watching Zayn being dressed in grey boots, could care less at what Louis thought, at what Steve thought, at what the fandom bloody thought about skipping the Vogue interview. It was just Vogue, right?

Niall scoffed. He dug his left hand inside the bag of gummy bears, stuffing his mouth with them. The realistic part of his brain, the _business_ side of his brain knew that this will put a damper on him, and his future career, but not enough to kill it, right?

“You’re done already?” he asked when Zayn sat himself by Niall, propping his knee up and resting his chin on it.

“Was given a five-minute break. Did you keep red gummy bears?” Niall looked inside the bag and nodded. “Gimme?”

“Big baby,” he chuckled. Nevertheless, he spilled red ones onto his hand, a couple of yellow ones too.

“Take the yellow ones!”

“They taste the same.”

“Do not.”

“Do too,” Niall said, chewing on yellow gummy bears as if proving a point.

“They taste gross and _yellow_.”

“They taste exac—”

“Niall,” Zayn whined and Niall, looking over at him, eyelashes long over his eyes, smooth skin, pink lips, subtle grazing his jaw, and his sweet, sweet Bradford accent, caved in. And the pleased-with-himself grin has Niall feeling he would pick out all the red gummy bears for Zayn for as long as he lived.

Zayn then looked up from where he was munching, catching Niall gazing at him, lips slightly parted. He gazed back, chewing slowly on his _red_ gummy bears and he could practically see, inside Niall’s skull, the gears overworking themselves as his eyes are blank, not seeing him  – like a shut door.

It was the soft brush of his knuckles on his cheek that Niall snapped out of his trance, a pink flush spreading on his cheeks.

“You don’t make sense, you know? How do you think red and yellow gummy bears taste different? That would mean they both taste like the green one—”

And just like that, the moment was dropped as if it never happened and Zayn deeply frowned.

“—because when I eat the red one it tastes exactly like the red and yellow one. So the red one tastes like the green and yellow ones. Clearly your tongue has a problem, obviously.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, choosing not to comment but reaching into the bag, luckily pulling out two red ones and a green one which he placed on Niall’s palm. Nadia, who was part of his Management team, called him back to continue the third part of his ELLE photoshoot.

Niall took this time to cross his legs below him, getting comfortable, and a brilliant view of Zayn. The lad in question was being dressed in lighter clothes: lighter shirts, pants and shoes which meant exposed skin, exposed tattoos up and down his arm, up on his chest, his legs and the Asian lady – Nadia, Niall reminded himself – added more rings to the shell of his ears.

His thoughts came to a halt with his phone buzzing.

“Hello, Ma.”

_Niall! Goodness me, I’ve been tryin’ to catch ye! What’s wrong with ye phone, Chicken?_

“Nothing’s wrong. When were you trying to call?”

_All day today!_

“I put my phone on silent, sorry Ma.”

_Are ye tryin’ to send me to an early grave, Nini? Trying to give ye poor, old Ma a heart attack because ye won’t answer. An’ for some reason El’s phone is off as well._

“She’s filming.”

_An’ then I get a call from Deo saying that ye didn’t go for ye interview with that magazine._

“Ho—How did you—Stop talking to Deo, Ma.”

_Was he wrong? Was everyone wrong?_

Looking over at Zayn, he thought they were all wrong. They were wrong in hating Zayn for quitting the band, even a year later, there were still people who hated him for the choices Zayn made, people not as far as fans and unknowns, but people close to him like Louis and Simon Cowell.

_Chicken?_

“Sorry, zoned out.”

_Ye been zonin’ out, lately. El’s been noticin’._

“No need to worry,” Niall assures his Ma, hearing the deep concern in her voice and practically seeing her grip the phone tighter to her ear.

_I’ve got the right to worry. My poor chicken is across the world an’ he has the weight of the world on ‘is shoulders._

“Not the world, Ma. Just mine. Where are you now?”

_At Willie’s getting ready for his weddin’. Ye know he would really want ye ‘ere._

“I know,” Niall said, dropping his head in his hand.

Willie, one of his best friends back in Mullingar, announced his engagement some time mid-last year. He could not attend because he was taking care of Eleanor and scolding Louis. Willie then announced that he was getting married and there was a small get-together which he did not attend, instead promoting his single in New York City. Back in the end of December, Willie announced his bachelor party, which to this day he suspected that Willie set it at a date _he_ would be available, but he bailed, cancelling the last minute and for the life of him, does not remember the reason.

And now, he will not be able to attend his bestfriend’s wedding as the Billboard Awards are happening on the same day.

“I wish I could make it, you know that, Ma,” he mumbled on the phone. “I’ve ju—” _st been busy_ , he ended the sentence in his mind.

 _He understands, Chicken_.

Niall’s fingers slid into his hair, his blunt nails scratching at his scalp. “Don’t think you understand, Ma. He set the date for his bachelor party just so _I_ could attend and I didn’t. Each time I have an excuse not to attend.”

_He knows how busy ye are, an’ how important he is in ye life, and ye’d never purposefully not attend somethin’ important in his life as his wedding._

“He’s getting married. One of the most important dates in someone’s life,” he said, his voice hoarse, “and it’s—and—and I won’t be there.”

_Ni, ye okay? What’s wrong, Chicken?_

“I’m never around, am I, Ma?” he chokes on the phone, his throat dry and eyes wet.

_Ni, talk to me. I can hear—_

“It feels like I left Mullingar. Left you, left Willie, Deo, Greg, the lads, the town… I feel like Da.”

_No! Niall James Horan, ye are not ye father, do ye hear me?_

“But it’s true,” his voice is watery, his vision getting rapidly blurry and his hand tugging on his hair. “I’m just like him, left and never came back.”

_Niall. Ye are not ‘im, do ye hear me? I need ye to understand that. Ye father left, yes, but ye never did._

“Why does it feel like I did?”

And his eyes could not hold it in anymore. They flowed down his cheeks, his head ducking even lower, and spilling on his aqua jeans. He could hear his Ma soothing him through the phone but this, _this_ was like an open dam. This was the fucking world telling him that as he was across the other side of the sea, Home was moving on fine without him, and perhaps, a tiny part of Niall telling they were fine with it and did not need him anymore.

Suddenly his phone was not in his hand and the crown of his head is pressed to a soft part of a body, like a stomach.

“… this is Zayn… You too… I will, promise… Harry Potter? It works?... I think I do, if not then I can download it… It’s no trouble for me, Mrs Horan… Maura… I think so. I don’t know. I think Eleanor would know… I will, promise Mrs H—Maura… you too… Goodbye.”

Then arms wrapped around his shaking shoulders, the warm feeling of a body pressed to his head and it made him feel like shit. Absolute piece of shit. He heaved, choking on his sobs. How could he not be there for his best friend’s milestone? And it was not just Willie, but everyone else? Lately, he had been couped up on his own goals, mending his friendship with his four brothers, helping Eleanor on her vlog and getting her website back, being surprise by photos of Theo growing so fast, doing everything possible by promoting his single... while he forgot about Home.

Forgot about his ageing mother living alone in that horrible house where his—Bobby left, the town where he grew up playing football with his bad knee, the friends he tried smoking with for the first time and vowed never to smoke again (cigarettes, that is), running from the Law for underage drinking and throwing it all up in the alley three hours later, losing his innocence to Holly Scally, not forgetting strumming his guitar to songs that his idiot friends would sing off key along and it was all brilliant.

It was Home.

But now he lived in hotels, touring unfamiliar cities on the daily, and was being comforted by practically a stranger.

“I want to go Home,” he wept into Zayn’s chest. Zayn did not answer him, nor comment, but held him closer, his arms embracing Niall’s shaking shoulders.

The rest of the studio came to a standstill, what with their star not standing in front of the camera. Nadia called for a five minute break, and Zayn mouthed, ‘Thank you.’ over to her. So, it was just the both of them in the white-walled room, just the sounds of Niall’s subsiding cries.

“Sorry about that,” Niall mumbled, pulling away from Zayn. Using the back of his hand, he wiped his cheeks dry multiple times, then used his shirtsleeves to wipe them off dry. “Just got good news, that’s all.”

“Those are not tears of good news.”

Niall chuckled but choked and sounded like he was about to start crying all over again. Zayn chooses the moment to speak before Niall does.

“Your mother was worried.”

“She’s always worrying.”

Zayn’s frown, it seemed, was permanently on his face as continued frowning at Niall. “For good reason. Wouldn’t you be worried when your son starts crying and you’re halfway across the world?”

Niall chose not to respond. He shut his eyes, breathing through his mouth. It was a small distraction, Zayn’s thumbs brushing his cheekbones, but hell it was so, so soothing.

“Willie is getting married.”

Zayn remained silent, quietly observing him, seeing the circles under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders, the downward tug of his lips, and his voice, _oh his voice_ , was made of nothing but regrets.

“Everyone’s out here, going on about; Andy’s a big Irish tennis player, Jamie is on his third marriage, Deo’s getting his PhD and he’ll be the youngest one in Mullingar, Sheila is finally moving out from her abusive home, Jamie’s out of rehab and getting his life in order...” it felt like Niall was listing _everyone_ who ever lived in Mullingar until he remembered himself, “and me… I was in a band.”

“You sing.”

“It feels like everyone is growing up, or old, together and I’ve been left behind.”

“You haven’t. It feels that way because you haven’t been home in a while,” said Zayn, his arm hooked round Niall’s shoulders, the other brushing along his jawline. “Why can’t you attend your friend’s wedding?”

“Billboard Awards. Rumor has it we’re winning,” he murmured. It did not even occur to him that he was competing with the person comforting, that they were both competing for the British Video of the Year and him mentioning that they, One Direction, would be winning was not something he should have let it slip. “And I’m performing my single.”

“Go home instead.”

Niall shook his head. “It’s an important day, for us, I can’t just bail to go home because, what, I’m a little homesick?”

“Yes!” Zayn exclaimed as if it was pretty obvious choice. “Willie, and everyone you grew up with in Mullingar, are much more important than attending some stupid show where you don’t know anyone. Plus, won’t the boys be there?”

“They will. But we do everything together, and me not being there, might seem—like I’m—won’t feel right.”

“Niall, this is about you and what you feel here,” the pad of his index finger pressed to the middle of Niall’s chest and Niall’s head ducked down, “it isn’t about everyone else. Imagine the feeling Willie will get when you tell him, ‘I’m on my way!’?”

“Shit his pants,” laughed Niall, but it was filled with mucus stuck in his throat, and fresh tears welling in his blue eyes. He ducked his head down, his fingers fiddling with themselves. “Wh-what would you do?”

“I’d go home.”

And Niall simply nodded, because really it was that simple. Except it was not.

 

~ ~ * ~ ~

 

“Your mother sort of recommended it.”

It was what one could do on a short notice, but because Niall had the Presidential Suite it could happen. The floor was littered with all sorts of pillows of silver and blues, while the floor was carpeted with large fluffy duvets and not an inch of the floor could be seen. In the middle of it were several cans of Guinness and a bottle of whiskey with various colored snacks that Niall’s mouth was watering just by looking at them. But that was not it, what struck him was the pack of DVDs by the bowl of Oreos, the pack of Harry Potter DVDs.

“She told you about Harry Potter?” asked Niall, his eyes still wide eyed at the set-up.

“She did, said it would make you feel better. Eleanor said something about the floor filled with bed sheets and duvets reminds you of clouds?” he phrased it as a question, chuckling through it. “I wanted to ask if she was high but then…”

Niall turned to him. “She wasn’t. And it does remind me of clouds. Sorry about earlier, at the shoot.”

Zayn waved his hand at him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal. Now. How do you want to do this? We watch with the first Harry Potter or the last or the—What? Why are you smiling so wide?”

“You’re precious,” Niall said and gasped, small but audible, because it was honest though not the type of honesty that he should say aloud. Luckily, Zayn did not think it was embarrassing because he was smiling at the ground, chuckling lightly.

“Thank you.”

“Just a minute, yeah?” he asked, and Zayn nodded. He rushed out of his hotel bedroom to Eleanor’s. She was in bed, laptop on her lap and ear buds in her ears. He flung his arms around her, lips pressed to her cheeks, again, and again, showering her with lots and lots of kisses.

“Oi! Get off! I just washed my face.”

“Thank you,” he manages to say in between kisses. He pulled back, his ass on the edge of the bed and hand squeezing her thigh. “Thank you for everything today, I owe you a big one. How’d it go with Vogue?”

She shrugged and that meant that it was not as bad as he hoped. “Steve sounded a little angry on the phone when he was speaking to me, saying that Vogue was a big deal. Twitter on the other hand…”

“Twitter?”

Eleanor shut her laptop and moved it off her lap to the spot beside her. “Social media basically are wondering what went wrong with you cancelling Vogue. Articles have been written, speculating, discussing, fans making all sorts of guesses about where you were, and the Instagram photo of gummy bears did not help them in knowing where you were.”

“From a P.A. point-of-view?”

“This is good because now you’re in the limelight even more, and Niall, you bailed on Vogue! Who’s ever done that before?”

Niall grinned. “Me!”

“How was the photoshoot?”

“Tell you later?”

She quickly nodded. “M called, just told me that you cried and Zayn picked up the phone. How awkward was that?”

Niall scratched the back of his neck. “Ma told him about Harry Potter.”

“Really?”

Niall wriggled his eyebrows as if to say _Yes_. “I’m such a loser, though. I hope he doesn’t think I’m a weirdo that I can marathon watch Harry Potter.”

“It’ll grow on him like it did on me when I saw how excited and giddy you get whenever you are sat in front of Harry Potter.”

A blush spreads on his cheeks. “Because Hogwarts is home.”

“Go!” She made the shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Zayn’ll start wondering why you’re out here and not there with him.”

Niall gasped, mockingly. “Are you chasing me out? This is what best friends do, chase others out when all they want to do is gush about the drop dead gorgeous lad in the next room?”

Eleanor raised her eyebrows at him and Niall slapped a hand over his mouth. He shook his head as Eleanor sputtered, taking the moment to walk out the room, toeing his shoes off down the corridor, and stepping onto the clouds of duvets and bed sheets with his purple socks.

“Hope two six-packs of Guinness will be enough,” said Zayn sheepishly, “I don’t know how much you drink.”

“A lot. But it’ll be enough.”

Zayn nodded. He stepped onto the makeshift clouds and sat beside Zayn. “I don’t which one you want to watch so you pick.”

“Nah you pick, surprise me.”

“Don’t you have a favourite?”

“They’re all my favourite,” his eye winked, actually winked at Zayn and a smirk grew on the Bradford boy’s lip.

“Fine. The _Prisoner of Azkaban_ sounds cool,” said Zayn picking the DVD off the duvet and then inserting it in the DVD player. It occurred to Niall just then how, and when, Zayn found all eight DVDs for Harry Potter? And would it not have been difficult looking for them? At this time of day what with shops closing and—m

“Thank you,” he said with utmost sincerity when Zayn sat back near him. “Thank you this. All of it.”

Zayn smiled at him. “Don’t be. I get to see what’s so good about Harry Potter, don’t I? We both win, don’t we?”

And he supposed they did but. He was winning much more than Zayn was. “Still thank you,” he insisted and this time Zayn gauged his attention, not saying anything for a moment and Niall hearing the blood rush to his ears.

“It wasn’t a—Welcome,” he replied.

Niall opened his beer can as Zayn pressed Play, and took a swig of it. He could feel his body physically relax, and he took another, and another, oh how he missed beer. From the corner of his eye, Zayn had a glass of whiskey in his hand and the other slowly separating the red gummy bears from the rest of the colors.

“Honestly,” he found himself shaking his head at Zayn, “this weird behaviour is going to get you killed.”

“S’not weird,” huffed Zayn.

“Pass that silver bowl,” instructed Niall.

“It has cookies inside.”

“Throw them in the Oreo bowl and pass it.”

Zayn did that. He watched Niall taking the red gummy bears off the medium bowl and dropping them in the small silver bowl.

“That’ll take ages!”

“Compared to what you were doing?” snorted Niall. “This will be easier. Plus you can pour whiskey into the bowl if you’d like.”

Zayn looked offended at the suggestion. “That’s ruining the taste of gummy bears! People who do that should be jailed for 25 years.”

“25 years?” laughed Niall, still dropping the red gummy bears into the new bowl.

“Or 25 to life, who cares, as long as they don’t breath the same air as me.”

“All Hail President Malik,” he said dryly.

“You better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i loVE HARRY POTTAAAAAHHH!!!! S'good s'amazing & hogwarts will always be Home for me. and niall too [;
> 
> hope everyone had an amazing EASTER !


	8. Billboards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor and Niall paint Dallas R.E.D!... and it's D-Day for the Billboard Awards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long chapter ahead... eNJOY ☺

> **‘Why did you do all this for me?’ he asked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.’  
>  ‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.’   
>  ~ E.B. White**

The Billboards were tomorrow and it was down to the wire, down to four artists for the British Video of the Year: One Direction, Zayn, Little Mix (new addition) and Coldplay.

Each of the members of One Direction had gotten their “artists” to vote for them, Harry literally getting everyone in each part of the entertainment industry: the music, movie, fashion, and even outside the entertainment in sports such as tennis, golf… and it seemed that Harry knew everyone, everywhere.

Niall was lucky to get all his three artists to vote for One Direction and therefore off Louis back who was lashing at Liam for only getting Nicki Minaj to tweet the voting link for British Video of the Year while, much to Liam’s blow, Juicy J voted for Zayn’s _PILLOW TALK_ as his British Video of the Year.

 **LIAM:** I Didn’t Think He’d Vote For Zayn.

 **LOUIS:** WELL HE FUCKING DID AND YOU’RE A FUCKING IDIOT!!

 **LIAM:** He Said Zayn’s Video Is Better Than Ours. Plus, He Likes His Style.

 **HARRY:** DON’T SAY HIS NAME LI!

 **LOUIS:** YOU NOW NEED TO GET TWO (2) MORE ARTISTS, INCLUDING USHER, TO VOTE FOR THE BRITISH VIDEO OF THE YEAR!!

 **LOUIS:** WE ALL GOT OUR ARTISTS TO VOTE FOR US, AND EVEN NIALL GOT THE VOTE FROM THE LATINO PEOPLE.

It was not a big deal. For some reason, Andy González, the lad who sat with him during the Grammy’s, tweeted a link voting for _History_ as the British Video of the Year. It was a surprise, if Niall was being honest, and he made sure to send his thanks his way.

 **LIAM:** I Got Noah Cyrus To Vote For Us.

 **LOUIS:** No one knows who they are. You might as well have gotten The Chainsmokers to vote for us.

 **LIAM:** Harry Did Though.

 **LOUIS:** FIND 3 PEOPLE TO VOTE FOR THE LINK BECAUSE CLEARLY USHER IS NOT GOING TO LISTEN TO YOU ASKING TO VOTE FOR 1D.

And, as Niall scrolled lazily down, that was the last time Louis was online.

 **HARRY:** Do you have any artists you want that I can help with Li?

 **LIAM:** No I’ll Do It Myself.

 **HARRY:** I can get Chance The Rapper to vote, just slip your name in, and he will.

 **LIAM:** You Know Chance The Rapper?

Niall was surprised, too.

 **HARRY:** Not KNOW KNOW but know him, just a little. He was at Kanye’s party last month and he made some One Direction joke which was quite funny.

 **LIAM:** What Was The Joke?

 **HARRY:** I don’t know. Can’t remember. Drank too many cocktails.

 **HARRY:** Nick’s fault!

 **LIAM:** How’s Nick Grimshaw? Still In Radio?

Niall scrolled to the end of the conversation and there was not much to talk about as Liam and Harry were talking about nothing. He clicked on Harry’s Private Message on WhatsApp finding several messages waiting for him.

 **HARRY:** So I’ve decided to tell Louis I love him after Billboards.

 **HARRY:** I’ve talked myself into it so much I can’t talk myself OUT of it (& also Gemma is threatening to punch me if I don’t).

 **HARRY:** So I’m thinking that after we’ve won (hopefully) & gone for the after party (please be there?), Lou will be high on adrenaline and weed so when we all go back to our hotel rooms, and it’s just us both, I’ll tell him…

 **HARRY:** Like, straight out. 

 **HARRY:** Or should I do something grand? Like have the room floor filled with petals? Or have the entire ceiling covered with balloons.

 **HARRY:** He loves balloons. Those shiny, silver/gold balloons to be specific.

 **HARRY:** Or should I be bland and just say those three words?

 **HARRY:** Gemma says that’s better than having a grand show like candle lit dinner or summat.

 **HARRY:** WHAT DO YOU THINK?

 **HARRY:** NIAAAAAAAAAAALL!!

 **HARRY:**  WHY AREN’T YOU ONLINE?!

 **HARRY:** I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN VEGAS? WE’RE IN THE SAME TIME ZONE SO YOU SHOULD BE ONLINE, NOT LIKE 8 HOURS BEHIND OR SUMMAT.

 **HARRY:** EARTH TO IRELAND!!!!

 **HARRY:** Do you think I should sing? Like play something that HINTS at me loving him?

 **HARRY:** Though Louis is clueless when it comes to hints so I don’t think that’s a good idea.

 **HARRY:** Plus, he doesn’t like Elvis cause I would’ve played ‘Can’t help but Fall in Love’. NOW THIS SEEMS TOO CHEESY!

 **HARRY:** Gemma agrees.

 **HARRY:** P.S. How did you get Katy Perry to vote for HISTORY?

 **NIALL:** DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY MESSAGES YOU’VE SENT ME? ONE HUGE SPAM!!

 **NIALL:** And FUCKIGN FINALLY mate! It’s been literally 6 years of you brooding, moaning, ogling, drooling & moping over Louis.

 **NIALL:** “ **HARRY:** P.S How did you get Katy perry to vote for HISTORY?” My secrets I shall never tell.

 **NIALL:** You’re cheesy for your own sake.

 **HARRY:** OH THANK GOODNESS YOU’RE ONLINE! WAITED FOR AGES!!

 **NIALL:** I’m at the spa with Eleanor and technically I can’t use my phone inside a sauna.

 **HARRY:** Why are you in a sauna?

 **NIALL:** El dragged me into one. Says all my sweat and germs will evaporate before tomorrow.

 **HARRY:** Can I ask you something for one sec?

 **NIALL:** Anything!

 **HARRY:** I know you say this a lot but I need to hear it before Billboards: does Eleanor have feelings for Louis?

 **NIALL:** NO! Why the fuck would she even LIKE him?

 **HARRY:** Because he’s a darling!

 **HARRY:** But thank you.

 **HARRY:** NOW BACK TO IMPORTANT ISSUES: How do I tell Louis I love him?

 **NIALL:** What did you have in mind?

 **HARRY:** I asked so as to get YOUR opinion. Gemma says I should make it simple and her boyfriend Michal agrees, my mom says it should be something meaningful to Louis, and Nick said I should suck his dick.

Niall laughed aloud at that. Eleanor raised her eyebrows at his sudden outburst, watching him keel over, clutching his stomach in the spa.

 **NIALL:** Please do!!!! He’ll never say no to anything you ever ask of him again.

 **HARRY:** Not helpful Niall!

 **NIALL:** OK. OK. I don’t think balloons are a good idea, nor are petals. You should say it when it’s just the two of you, not when everyone else is around.

 **HARRY:** Fine.

 **NIALL:** I mean it Harry!! I know you can pull shit like announcing your love for him at the Billboards.

 **HARRY:** I said FINE. Why does everyone take me for the dramatic one?

 **NIALL:** Cause you are.

 **HARRY:** Should I be dressed in something he loves? He likes it when I wear green. Says it brings out my eyes.

 **NIALL:** I didn’t need to know that Harry. But sure, wear green. And don’t wear something off Gucci or some shit like that. Wear something NORMAL.

 **HARRY:** UGH! Now I need to go shopping. Outfit, check. Venue, check. Words, not check.

 **NIALL:** Why not be watching Grease or summat?

 **HARRY:** I’LL fall asleep during it. Won’t make me get points.

 **NIALL:** Or watch whatever football match is on tomorrow night.

 **NIALL:** Think Man U is playing with Spurs.

 **HARRY:** DO YOU WANT ME TO FALLA SLEEP AS I DECLARE MY LOVE FOR MY LOULOU?

 **NIALL:** Loulou? That’s new.

 **HARRY:** Everyone calls him “Lou” so I need a new, unique nickname.

 **NIALL:** And you settled with Loulou?

 **HARRY:** CAN WE NOT discuss my nicknames but what I will SAY to him?

 **NIALL:** This might sound crazy but how about ‘I love you’? I hear it works.

 **HARRY:** UGH! Might as well watch romantic videos on Youtube for ideas.

 **NIALL:** Bake him cupcakes. He likes your cupcakes. Add weed.

 **HARRY:** Or brownies. That means I have to bake them early in the morning because we need to be at the venue in the afternoon for rehearsals.

 **NIALL:** Pay him extra attention the whole day, might go down well when you do eventually tell him you love him.

 **HARRY:** That’s brilliant!

 **NIALL:** & please don’t chicken out Harry. It’s been SIX years & I don’t want you spending another year looking longingly at him.

 **HARRY:** I promise I’m telling him. But I’m still scared. What if he doesn’t say those words back? What if he walks off? Or worse, he

_HARRY is typing…_

**NIALL:** Is Louis gay though?

 **HARRY:** He’s bi. But you can’t tell ANYONE!!!!!!

 **HARRY:** PROMISE ME NIALL!

 **NIALL:** Promise. How do you know?

 **HARRY:** He got drunk once and he didn’t have a ride home, seeing as Oli was taking some girl home and he wanted to impress her so he took Louis’ car.

 **HARRY:** He called me and I picked him up, stopping by Burger King for fatty foods as I knew he hadn’t eaten in a long time. And it was when I was tucking him in bed that he said that the fans were right. I asked him what about. And he said he is bisexual.

 **NIALL:** That’s good right? Least you know he is gay!

 **HARRY:** Yeah but he denies it. Hates that part of him.

 **NIALL:** If you can love him, show him that you love him, gay & all, he will learn to love it.

 **HARRY:** I don’t understand why he thinks being gay is a flaw. Sure, there are people who don’t like people like me because we’re gay but MAJORITY of the people still love us.

 **NIALL:** It’s just you Harry. You have a personality that’s hard to hate. Whether you’re gay, not gay, or you’re a pedo, people will still love you endlessly.

 **HARRY:** HAAHAHA of all the things?

 **NIALL:** Yeah

 **NIALL:** G2G! I’m getting out of the spa, finally. Talk later?

 **HARRY:** Tonight?

 **NIALL:** Course.

 **HARRY:** Love you Ni!

 **NIALL:** Love you too

 

 **~  ~  *  ~  ~**

Niall had never been to Prom.

It should not be a big deal, but to him it was, when every other week he heard, or read, someone going for Prom, or were getting ready for Prom, it irked him.

He heard all about Eleanor’s perfect Prom with a pinch of jealously. Why did everyone get a perfect Prom story when his was terrible?

His then girlfriend, Holly Scally, had been his girlfriend since the ninth grade. It was his last year in high school and he was going for Prom and all that pizzazz. He rented a tux, a matching bowtie with her dress (a light shade of purple) that made her look soft and cuddly he just wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and hug her for infinity.

A day to Prom, Holly Scally was not his date no more. She cheated on him with McKibben. _Someone_ McKibben. To this day, Niall still does not remember his first name. Or maiden name. Just McKibben.

There had been rumors going round in his school that Holly and McKibben were together but since _he_ was the one dating Holly, clearly the school got it twisted. Turned out, they were not rumors. She did not even deny it when he confronted her with the validity of the rumors nor did she look sorry.

Come Prom night he still attended it, he spent money on his tux he might as well put it to good use. And it was not easy. Here was the girl, dare he say, love of his life, dancing with this _McKibben_ fella who literally appeared out of nowhere, his arms around her and it was hard. So hard to watch but his eyes could not tear off them.

Perhaps, mulling over it, he should have bought her more flowers, held her hand more, should have given her more hours of his time, or even complimented her eyes, saying they reminded him of éclairs, and not honey like he always said, then maybe he would be dancing with his baby at Prom.

Because even after she cheated on him, even after she looked smug when she told him that McKibben was  a better boyfriend than he ever would be, he would still dance with her, he would drive (if he had his driving license) highways and byways to be with her because everything always came back to Holly.

Eleanor hugged him tightly after narrating his Prom tale. “That is not what Prom should’ve been like. She was an asshole for cheating on you with that loser.”

Niall shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Prom is meant to be corsages, new outfits, limos, drinks, dancing until your feet ache, lots of kisses and virginities lost—”

“She was my first.”

Eleanor pinched his cheek. “I know that, Nini, but generally Prom is the night. I didn’t lose mine on Prom because I think it’s a pathetic notion that Prom should be the night to lose your innocence just cause everyone is doing it.”

“Agreed.”

“Neither should Prom be filled with you looking over the dance floor, Ed Sheeran playing, and watching your ex dance with the idiotic boy she cheated on you with and your heart breaking.

“Are you making me feel better?” he asked her incredulously.

“I am about to.”

She had a twinkle in her eye, a twinkle that involved lots of drinking and dancing. “Oh no. No, no, no, no. I’m not getting drunk! In a day it’s Billboards and I ne—”

“I’m giving you a real Prom experience and part of it is a huge hangover the following day.”

“I will forget the words to my song.”

“You’ve played that song for _millenniums_ now I’m pretty sure you can sing it in your sleep and play the guitar to it, as well.”

She was not wrong. Niall gives in, then, mostly because he wanted the Prom experience and also, well, he just wanted the Prom experience. He wanted to wash away the one he had.

So the day before Billboards, most celebrities have touched down in Dallas where the Awards will be taking place, Niall and Eleanor were not to be left behind. They threw their suitcases in their Hilton Hotel Presidential Suite and were already set about exploring the city of Dallas. They spend the morning getting their hair and nails done, well, Eleanor spent her morning getting her nails and hair done while Niall checked his various social media accounts.

On Twitter, he replied a couple of tweets to fans, followed some, followed about 20 Directioners, read articles that were basically pitching the band and Zayn against each other because they were in the same category.

He rolled his eyes, choosing instead to give Harry a boost to his grand plan for tomorrow when he declared his undying love for Louis.

 **Niall Horan @NiallOffical**  
_@HarryStyles A TEAM OF WILD HORSES COULDN’T TEAR US APART_

 **Niall Horan @NiallOffical**  
_@HarryStyles Heard you were a fan of Elvis_

 **Niall Horan @NiallOffical**  
_@HarryStyles I’M GONNA STICK LIKE GLUE BECAUSE I’M STUCK ON YOU_

 **Harry Styles @HarryStyles**  
_@NiallOffical Didn’t take you for an Elvis fan??_

**Niall Horan @NiallOffical  
** _@HarryStyles R U kidding? I’m a huge one !_

**Harry Styles @HarryStyles**  
_@NiallOffical Lies!_

 **Louis Tomlinson retweeted**  
_Harry Styles @HarryStyles  
@NiallOffical Lies!_

He did not need to be wherever Harry was to know he was swooning over a simple Retweet by Louis. Well, it was Louis who retweeted so maybe he can understand. He would totally be swooning if Troye Sivan retweeted, or even Liked, anything of his Tweets.

He went about retweeting tweets about love – anything that spoke of love he did. Directioners had caught on and went on tweeting a lot about love, and when Niall started tagging Harry in his _love_ retweets so did the fans, tagging him as well. While it was all fun and games, some thought Narry was rising.

He kept going, and Gemma caught on too, after he sent her a DM about why he was doing all of it. She thought it was a neat idea and did it too. It was still fun and games, but now those Narry fans thought Niall and Gemma were indirectly saying they were in love. #NemmaRise was the fourth Worldwide Trend and Harry was not happy.

Harry, who was still online, odd because he had been silent since Louis retweeted him, tweeted:

 **Harry Styles @HarryStyles**  
_Just to let everyone know, @NiallOfficial is not dating my sister  H._

 **Gemma Styles @GemmaAStyles**  
_Don’t be a a party pooper!! LOVE IS IN THE AIR, right @NiallOfficial?_  
  
**Niall Horan retweeted**  
_Gemma Styles @GemmaAStyles_  
_Don’t be a a party pooper!! LOVE IS IN THE AIR NiallOfficial?_

 **Niall Horan @NiallOfficial**  
_Get that buzz, love is the drug I’m thinking of @HarryStyles @GemmaAStyles ;)_

 

His Twitter inbox message dinged with a new message and it was from Zayn.

 **ZAYN:** You buzzin’ for tomorrow?

 **NIALL:** YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!! Already in the salon getting ready. Went o the spa yesterday.

 **ZAYN:** Doing your hair Prince Charming?

 **NIALL:** I can hear the smirk in your voice, Zay. It’s Eleanor.

 **ZAYN:** ZAY? That is laziness typing. You are literally leaving one 1 letter in my name.

 **NIALL:** I can’t call you “Zan” or “Ayn” or worse “Zyn.”

 **ZAYN:** Zyn sounds like my name.

 **NIALL:** See! I have good nicknames AHAHAHA

 **ZAYN:** Nah. What is with you and the fandom tweeting love songs? Poems?

 **NIALL:** Oh! HAHAHAHAH it’s actually a funny story

 **NIALL:** Harry’s finally going to tell Louis he loves him and I don’t want him to chicken out again

 **NIALL:** So I’ve been tweeting love songs to him to get him “in the zone” and then Gemma joined in when I told her what I was doing

 **NIALL:** Did you really change your Twitter name to “ZYN”?

 **ZYN:** Yeah. It’s actually not bad.

 **ZYN:** And it is about time he told Louis. It has been, what, six long years?

 **NIALL:** TELL ME ABOUT IT! I’ve heard to hear about it ever since we were put in a band! About how good Louis looks today, how brilliant his jokes are (not really), how sinful he looks in tight jeans

 **ZYN:** Or how Louis has the voice of an angel.

 **NIALL:** I know right. Finally Harry’ll tell Louis after Billboards.

 **ZYN:** Is he nervous?

 **NIALL:** He’s a WRECK! But he has to do this or else he’ll keep putting it off till next year. Then the next. Then 2019. 2020. 2021. Soon we’re in 2042 and he still hasn’t said anything.

 **ZYN:** Well that is some slippery slope you have gone down on (:

 **NIALL:** HAR HAR

 **NIALL:** Are you excited for tomorrow?

 **ZYN:** Yeah I am. Gigi’s accompanying me seeing as Doniya is going to be a no-show.

Niall simply ignored the part about _who_ was going to be Zayn’s plus one tomorrow. He simply had deleted her from his brain a long time ago, and she was history.

 **NIALL:** Why?

 **ZYN:** Because she is my girlfriend…?

 **NIALL:** I meant Doniya….

 **ZYN:** Oh! She is jetlagged /:

 **NIALL:** There’s Walihya.

 **ZYN:** She is in school.

 **NIALL:** Jawaad?

 **ZYN:** If I bring one cousin, I have to bring them all, and we are not all going to hog the red carpet.

 **NIALL:** There :] isn’t :] enough :] space :] for :] you :] and :] your :] 289523 :] cousins :] anyway :]

 **ZYN:** You are hilarious, Niall. Didn’t know you were a comedian!

 **NIALL:** Oh? Irish comedians are quite plenty. We’re just low key.

 **ZYN:** Sarcasm.

 **NIALL:** Ignoring the sarcasm.

 **ZYN:** Who are you bringing as a date?

 **NIALL:** Eleanor. But as friends.

 **ZYN:** What about Ellie?

 **NIALL:** Ever since the whole Ed Sheeran song drama she said we should simply be friends

 **ZYN:** Sorry man. Are you and Eleanor just friends?

 **NIALL:** Yeah. Why?

 **ZYN:** Idk. You seem close…

Niall sighed. Eventually Zayn would catch on, just like the entire fucking world, thinking he and Eleanor were something more than they were.

Honestly, Niall has never thought of Eleanor in that way, never more than a sister. It was not that she was not attractive, she was, it was just that she did nothing _for_ him. Multiple times he had to deny, deny, deny that they were more just friends, best friends at that, when Directioners commented on how couple-y he looked with Eleanor on Instagram, or on his and her Snapchats, or on her Youtube channel… after a while he just did not care, simply ignoring them and blossoming his friendship with her.

Besides, he preferred to have Eleanor as a friend than as a girlfriend.

 **NIALL:** We’re just friends. Trust.

 **ZYN:** She is kinda hot though…

 **NIALL:** AHAHAH she is, no denying that but we’re just friends, nothing more.

Zayn took a while to reply so he offed and went to Instagram. Eleanor’s hair was spectacular and they began on her nails. He settled in into his seat, his right hand digging into his bag of Doritos, phone being charged (thank goodness Eleanor always carries hers) and scrolled down his Instagram feed.

He decided to post a photo of Eleanor’s nails being done, with the caption: _Prom night!_ with a million confetti and pink flying love hearts.

He opened his WhatsApp to find, like usual, a spam of Harry messages, this time not about Louis.

Ha!

When will that ever happen? Of course it was about Louis.

 **HARRY:** Are you ignoring Lou on the group?

 **HARRY:** If you are, which I think you are, he’s still wondering why you blew off the Vogue interview. Many are speculating that it’s for the fucktard.

 **HARRY:** You were spotted by fans leaving the ELLE photoshoot venue together in his Cadillac…

 **HARRY:** I didn’t stalk! Promise! Lou has posted article after article, photo after photo on the group it was HARD not to open one and read…

 **HARRY:** Is there something going on between you and him?

 **HARRY:** You can tell me, right? I won’t judge you.

Niall did trust Harry on his word. Harry was the last person to judge someone. He lived on the philosophy that only God can judge us so why should we, humans, do it?

But Harry was technically on Louis’ side which meant he was against anything Zayn so no, Niall was not going to tell him why he cancelled his interview with Vogue.

 **HARRY:** Though your plan of using him as publicity for your single is working! You’re rising in the charts. You’re basically Top 5 in every Chart out there.

 **HARRY:** P.S. You and my sister have no chance together!

 **HARRY:** Set your eyes elsewhere xx H.

 **HARRY:** P.S.S. She’s not your type. All the love.

 **NIALL:** I’d be a better boyfriend to your sister than Michal or whatever his name is!

 **HARRY:** He’s a pretty cool boyfriend. And Gemma loves him. There are EXPLICITLY in love.

 **NIALL:** Not for long…

 **NIALL:** Does your sister still love the green colored cotton candy?

 **HARRY:** No. She likes pink.

 **NIALL:** Oh, well, looks like I need to up my game, innit?

 **HARRY:** YOU ARE NOT UPPING ANY GAME BECAUSE SHE’S TAKEN!!

 **NIALL:** And I’m pretty sure she likes the green colored ones. She tweeted it yesterday and I retweeted.

 **HARRY:** Stop retweeting my sister. It’s creepy.

 **NIALL:** You RT’d my brother on Monday, was it? When he posted a photo of Theo…

 **HARRY:** Because his son is adorable.

 **NIALL:** Aren’t you into older men…

 **HARRY:** SHUT UP NIALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

 **NIALL:** AHAHAHAHAHA

 **HARRY:** You’re the worst! I’m officially going offline now.

 **NIALL:** As I go buy green colored cotton candy…

Harry sent myriad of emoticons, some crying faces, two guns, and others he chuckled at Harry acting like a child, all protective of his sister.

Back on Twitter, Harry was sure to remind him just that.

 **Harry Styles @HarryStyles**  
_Hands off @NiallOfficial!! All the love, H xx_

 

Zayn had come back online and it seemed he too was on board with everyone else.

 

 **ZYN:** Or Gemma can be your date, it seems.

 **NIALL:** You know how Harry gets touchy when either one of us joke about dating her.

 **ZYN:** Aha! Remember when Liam said he was going to pick her up at 8:00 on Friday, taking her to someplace nice?

 **NIALL:** AHAHAHAHA and Harry literally followed Liam all day and all night making sure the date never happened!!

 **ZYN:** He is so protective of his sister, Harry (:

 **NIALL:** Are you performing at the Billboards?

 **ZYN:** Nope. I did not want to.

 _Strange_ , Niall thought. _Why would he not want to perform?_

 **NIALL:** Why?

 **ZYN:** It is hard to type it…

 **NIALL:** Can I call you?

 **ZYN:** Are not you busy?

 **NIALL:** I’m surrounded by mani-pedis & hair dryers I feel like I’m in female territory with lots of yellow and white.

 **ZYN:** Aha (: I will explain tomorrow, ok?

 **NIALL:** Course.

 **ZYN:** I gotta go for lunch with Gigi. Talk later?

Niall stopped himself from grinding his teeth together at the mention of Zayn’s girlfriend. He took a deep breath in, scents of hair spray hitting his nose, and counted to three before typing out his message.

 **NIALL:** Course [[[[:

It was ‘Prom Time’ according to Eleanor which happened to be eight-thirty-seven at night. They started with ‘Start Drinks’ which were a couple of shots – which Niall protested because _beer is a better choice_ but Eleanor silenced him by shoving a shot into his hand.

Niall was beginning to think it was a night of coincidences.

They happened to stumble at a shop that was selling tiaras and through much groaning and whining, Eleanor dragged him into it and he literally felt like a Princess. He watched as she gushed over silver tiaras, diamond-laced tiaras, colored tiaras, large ones, small ones, ones that had feathers, others had fur ( _Get that one!_ Niall laughed). She later on settled on a burgundy one to match Niall’s polka dot socks.

Next coincidence was corsage shop.

“An entire shop just for corsages?” Niall’s voice was in shock.

“I love Texas!” cheered Eleanor.

Niall chose for her one: a neon aqua one to which Eleanor begrudgingly accepted. As they traversed down the Dallas night streets, Niall had his phone out and was on Snapchat.

“Hey Snappers! It’s Prom Night,” – here Eleanor let out a celebratory scream – “and we’re looking for some place to have a bite before dancing the night away!”

“There!” Eleanor says, pointing excitedly across the street. “There is our pub to eat oily good and cheap beer.”

“I heard beer!” he cheers, Snapchat on. “Do I need a tiara as well? I feel like my head is missing somet—” Snapchat video ended just then and he pouted at his phone. “Rude. Why does Snapchat always stop you before you’re done talking?”

“C’mon! Food isn’t going to eat itself!”

Inside the local pub, they ordered a plate of fat French fries and two large beers. And an extra beer for Niall. They munched on their food, a little too quickly for Niall’s liking, to which Eleanor argues _Prom isn’t about food!_ and, while Niall did not have the full experience of a Prom, he was pretty sure eating was part of the night. They were out when he barely drank half of his second beer.

“What a waste of good beer! Best beer I’ve ever drunk in America,” he whined, loosening his tie.

“We’ve got to be on the move,” Eleanor says, her voice a little breathless.

“With your six-inch heels, are you sure you’ll make it to,” he checked the time on his watch, “when did it reach ten?” He gasped and raised his gaze to Eleanor who had pink cheeks and radiating delight. “When did it reach ten? We’ve literally _just_ eaten!”

“It’s Prom night, the night flies!” She linked her hand to his elbow and got him walking down the busy night streets. “There’s too much to do, too much to see, so much to—”

“Cotton candy!”

“Or—yeah. Wait, what? Why are you getting cotton candy?”

“For Gemma,” he cackled, already sprinting to the cotton candy shop. Yes, there was a whole shop just for cotton candy, and it was quite large, and it was part of the many coincidences that Niall was meeting on Prom Night.

“Gemma? As in Harry’s sister?” Niall noddded at her, eager, eyes glittering at the _vast_ choices he had of cotton candy. “I saw your weird tweets with Harry and Gemma and won’t ask what that was about,” she said, in a way that hinted he should have explained, “but what does cotton candy have to do with Gemma?”

“Well I know she loves the green cotton candy and it’s sort of been an inside joke between me and Liam that we are trying to woo Gemma and it’s worth it seeing Harry all flustered and irritated.”

“Niall,” she sighed. He beamed at her. He bought the bubblegum flavoured cotton candy and requested to put green colouring. The teenage girl over the counter eyed him funny but he was bubbly inside, imagining what _Harry_ would say, how he would react knowing, just knowing he had—

“Here you go. That’ll be 12 dollars.”

“Quite expensive.”

“It’s Prom night,” argues Niall, taking out a twenty. “Keep the change.”

“You’re on a budget, Nini,” Eleanor reminded him but he shrugged as he took his green-colored cotton candy.

“It’s Prom night. Pretty sure going broke is part of the experience. Now, I want you to take a photo of me holding this for Twitter and then a Snap video saying it’s for Gemma.”

“Isn’t Harry going to kill you?”

“He’s going to go ape shit!” he roared in laughter. Sure enough, after Niall uploaded the photo, Gemma liked it, with several tear-laughing emojis and red hearts, and Harry sent a multitude of purple Devil emojis and Directioners simply retweeted en masse wondering what was going on (though, probably in those rare moments, they understood Harry’s tweet).

Zayn retweeted the Tweet and Eleanor’s, too, of herself with Niall when they were at the pub.

“I’m quite sober,” Niall mumbled, pocketing back his phone. “We need to get drunk. Or get a buzz.”

“Don’t you want to finish that?”

Niall shook his head. “This was just to irritate Harry.” He threw his fluffy cotton candy into the bin to his right.

“You know what we need? Glitter!”

“Glitter?” parroted Niall. “Why? It’s not like our outfits are dull.”

“Who doesn’t like glitter?”

Niall was beginning to think that Eleanor was not following some Prom checklist but rather what she wanted to do. He shrugged, going with the flow. Whatever it was, he was having a good time and replacing his old terrible Prom night memory.

“Where do we find glitter? At this rate, if we walk down this street, we will probably find a glitter shop,” commented Niall. They walked, hand in hand, down the Dallas nightlife streets. There were bodies swaying by them, loud chattering across the streets, cars zooming past them, and warm air.

On their hunt for glitter, and later filling their veins with alcohol, the open skies decide to close up and shower down on the city of Dallas. By another coincidence (Niall had honestly stopped counting the strokes of luck), they turned a sharp right corner and were right outside, not Niall’s Hilton hotel, but another.

“Hilton? Could we not find another hotel like Intercontinental or something?”

But Niall was shooing her in, muttering, “In, in, in! We’re going to be rained on!”

Eleanor jumped in through the door, ignoring the curious looks from the hotel doorman and stumbling in. Niall wrapped his arms around himself automatically, his wet coat sticking to his back and arms and back of his thighs, hair flopped down to his forehead.

“I’m fucking freezing!”

“Well we’re in here till the rain stops then we’re out!” Niall frowned, turning from where he was standing in the middle of the Hilton hotel lobby to Eleanor who was already walking down the lobby further into the hotel. “It’s barely midnight.”

“Where are you going?” he hissed at her.

“We’re changing clothes. Can’t have you catching a cold on Prom night nor the day you perform your single.”

“Wh—did you just say ‘change clothes’?” inquired Niall. The corner of Eleanor’s lips tugged upward, her eyes twinkling wickedly. “Don’t like this, El. There’s that look in your eye that we’re about to fuck shit up.” A beat passed between them. “Are we about to fuck shit up?”

Eleanor simply nodded at him, her lips now in a full smile. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, walking to wherever Eleanor was walking, suspiciously well as if she had been at this hotel before, or had _done_ this before. Done what? Apparently, paying the laundry man at the Hilton hotel a hundred so he could take any clean laundry, give you the clothes in the bag and take yours.

“Isn’t this robbery?” asked Niall, looking down at his new outfit. He was donned in skin-tight jeans (that would put Harry’s jeans to shame), another tight black shirt splashed in color and his hair is quiffed as high as it can go thanks to Eleanor’s magic hands, and hairspray.

“No.” Niall looked down at her outfit. She was dressed to the nines as always: heels (when was she ever in flats?), short, purple lace dress and her hair looking spectacular even after being in the rain. “It’s helping the environment.”

“Let’s go for a drink.”

“You’ve drank more than six beers today, and three Vodka shots,” Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him, hands on her hip, “where does all that alcohol go?”

“I’m Irish.”

Two photos uploaded on Instagram with their new outfits, several Snapchat videos (seeing as it was still raining) of them drinking mimosas in the Hilton lobby, they were—still waiting for the rain to calm down.

Niall grunted in his second glass of mimosa. “Why is it still raining?”

“Who cares! These mimosas are so sweet,” gleed Eleanor.

Niall agreed, ordering another as they waited for the rain to down a bit. He logged on Twitter and was immediately bombarded with messages and questions of what he was doing, why it was Prom Night, and suggestions of where to go. He replied to some, others he said it was far, and laughed at some, and uploaded a selfies for a fan who asked where he was currently on Prom Night. No caption.

 **ZYN:** Prom Night?

 **NIALL:** PROM NIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!

 **ZYN:** You look drunk in your selfies.

 **NIALL:** I’m so sober it hurts AHAHAHHA

Eleanor gripped his shoulder, practically yelling in his ear that the rain had stopped and they should get a move on.

 **NIALL:** Rain stopped! See you later?

 **ZYN:** Take lots of photos (:

**~   ~   *   ~   ~**

“Who’s house is this?”

After canvasing the streets of Dallas at two in the A.M., they took a taxi to drive them to wherever and they end up in… wherever. Specifically, someone’s house on the cul-de-sac where there was a massive, raging house party going on. The street was littered with cars up and down it that it was quite a walk from where the taxi driver dropped them off. People were in and out of the house like moths, flooded the house like bees, making a raging noise like blaring ambulances.

“Says on Instagram it is Kobb’s party.”

“Who is Kobb?” wondered Niall. Fireworks went off to his right, illuminating the sky right above them in green, red and gold.

“Think it’s his birthday or summat. But who cares right now. We’re here to get smashed!”

Niall could not agree more. Not before he posted a photo of the lines and lines of parked cars along the pavement with _Don’t need a car tonight_ as his caption with car emojis. On Instagram he took photos of him doing duck faces with Eleanor with literal duck and lips emojis as his caption, and of course a tiara one.

All around him, the music was loud, loud, and loud and he felt his heart beating to the drum of the speakers blasting Calvin Harris. He swam through the crowd, holding Eleanor’s hand so as not to lose her in the tight, sweaty crowd. They emerge in what was the backyard with a pool… and was that… was that a car inside?!

Niall’s jaw unhinged and hung as he gaped at the Porsche plunged in the pool. He laughed aloud, as Eleanor came to stand by his side, taking out his phone and snapping a photo for his Twitter.

“People are insane,” he said in between gasps of breath. “Who the hell is Kobb? We’ve got to meet him and say his party is insane.”

“I heard Kanye is here.”

“Kanye?” he whipped his head so fast he think he momentarily lost his balance, and phone falling to the ground. “Where? It’s not everyday you meet Kanye.”

Eleanor looked down at Niall picking his cracked-screen (again) phone. “He’ll be at the Billboards.”

“Like on the front row. We will be seated _fourth_ row which is three rows too far from Kanye,” he said, loud enough above Nicki Minaj’s _Only_.

They wade their way through the crowd once again, looking for drinks. Instead of drinks, their song _Raise Your Glass_ came on and Niall turned on his feet to Eleanor to match the same shit-eating grin. He grabbed her hands and lifted them to the air, already belching out P!nk’s song at the top of his lungs.

They never left the backyard, each song somehow being _their_ song and really, it was their song so why would they leave and not dance to it when it came on? They shook, shook, shook their legs, wriggled, wriggled, wriggled their hips, pumped, pumped, pumped their fists to the night sky, and they rolled, rolled, rolled their heads to the rhythm.

Niall, as Ariana Grande and Iggy Azalea’s _Problem_ played the chorus, felt a warm body pressed to his back, hot breath on his neck as he leaned back to the body. He let the arms hold his hips, fingers sliding underneath his tight shirt, letting them circle round and lips pressed to his neck. He angled to his neck to give room to this stranger who apparently did not mind _biting his sweaty neck_.

Niall turned round, curiously, and froze. It was not a girl. It was a boy. A boy who had his hands all over him, fingers trailing dangerously low, a boy who had been bitting his neck and he had the most devilish eyes he had ever laid his eyes on. And soon, his eyes got closer, the music, the lights somehow dimmer in his head as lips crushed on his Irish ones.

It was not what he was used to. At all. Like, up until now he had never kissed a _boy_ before and yet. He found himself opening up to this devilish boy, his lips parting and letting the boy’s tongue explore his own mouth.

 _It’s not a big deal_ , his mind whirled inside. He pushed the boy’s hands from his face, taking sudden control, and cupping his face instead, fingers digging behind his ears. Whether he groaned in Niall’s mouth or not, Ariana Grande blocked the sound but he felt the vibrations on his tongue.

Bodies pushed against them, but that did not deter Niall, determined to leave _his_ taste in this boy’s lips, mouth, tongue and down his throat.

He broke the kiss, or well, it was _him_ who broke the kiss and Niall simply gaped at him, his lips wet, red and panting.

“See you later, blondie!” he winked, and walked off.

He blinked. _What just happened?_ He whipped around to look for Eleanor because _holyfucking hotballshejustmadeoutwithaguy!_ She was not behind him, where he previously left her, nor was she anywhere he turned his head side to side to look for her. He walked farther through the party, sweaty bodies sliding past him and made his way into the house. He breathed a sigh of relief seeing a keg and his brain lit up with one thing in mind: beer. Moreso, _free_ beer.

He poured himself a full cup and chugging it in two rounds.  He filled his cup, more beer, drinking it down like it was water. And one more because, hey, it was free, might as well. _Carpe diem_ and all that.

“Niall!”

He knew that squeaky, tipsy voice from anywhere. His neck wrapped with a slender arm and his nose gets a whiff of tequila.

“Are you having fun?”

Niall laughs into her neck. “Yeah. You?”

“Made out with the DJ,” Eleanor giggled between her words. Her hair was down – hair tie long forgotten – and her shoes gone and wearing… are those _crocs_??

“Are you wearing crocs?” he asked, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, what with several (spiked) beers down and bright neon lights.

“Some bitch took my shoes,” she huffed. “Then I made out with her boyfriend for revenge. Think they broke up.”

“I made out with a guy.”

The silent gawk that Eleanor sent his way made it feel like the Katy Perry had stopped playing and the party stilled. Except it was just the two of them who were not moving. Eleanor brought her hands to cover her cheeks as her eyes grew to the size of an owl.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I kissed a boy and I liked it.”

A beat.

“Okay. Was he cute?” He nodded, his teeth bright in the kitchen light. “Get his number.”

“I didn’t get his name, El. Plus it’s Prom night, right? We’re meant to make bad decisions and all that shit?”

Eleanor leaned in, tequila breath hitting his nose. “How bad is _bad_?”

“Extremely.”

And while they have never, technically speaking, kissed before, except that one time in Venice, it still was a tad unusual when they do kiss. It was a short one, Niall blaming it on tequila and the bright lights, and—

“Your lips taste too much like beer,” she slurred, her nose scrunched. “Why do you drink beer like it is water?”

“Why do you take tequila?”

“I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Make out for Instagram.”

He laughed. And laughed in her face because _what_? She pouted at him, her eyelashes fluttering in the crowded kitchen that was too, too loud to even hear what Eleanor was mumbling but he could see her lips move, the lips that had been on his.

“You want me to make out with you for Instagram?”

“No silly,” she squealed, giggly. “Make out with a guy for Instagram.”

 _Oh_.

“Why not?” he liked the idea, it slowly growing on him. Except… where was his phone? He patted his pockets twice, thrice, looked up to ask Eleanor for her phone instead, but-but where was she?

He lost her, again. Now he had no phone, and no Eleanor.

He knew he would meet up with her later so he decided to have a good time. A good time meant more beer, more dancing, more opened buttons he might as well lose the soaked-in-sweat shirt, but he kept it on but his chest exposed.

“Pour me one, handsome?”

He whipped his head up from where he was pouring himself a beer into a blue cup. It was not the boy he made out with, but another who was _attractive_ as hell.

“Sure.” He handed the cup he was pouring for himself, and randomly introduced himself, “I’m Niall.”

Probably not the best idea to introduce himself to a complete stranger what with him being a celebrity and all but tonight was Prom night. Bad decisions… _Carpe diem_ … All that jazz.

“What about you?” he asked the attractive lad who had not stopped making strong eye contact with his open chest. He checked him out fast: sleek hair that looked like he was rolling in bed for _ages_ (looking closer Niall’s tipsy brain thinks it’s hook-ups), lips smacking red, and eyes that do not stop twinkling.

“Caught my attention.”

Niall bit on the side of his bottom lip, tearing his gaze to look elsewhere but at him. Two hands hooked to the bottom of his chin and turned his head and there, there he looked into those twinkling eyes that had naughty spelt out in them.

“Let’s see how your body looks after shots.”

Niall did not know how his body looked after shots but he sure as hell would love to see. He followed the boy, who had a grip on his wrist, and guided him further into the house. His heart was beating a mile a minute, his eyes wide with excitement that honestly, why has he not been gate crashing house parties _before_?

The (definitely several rounds of sex) hair stranger instructed Niall to lay on top of the table where he, with one strong swipe, threw shot glasses, crushed cups, and bottles off the table to the floor. He hopped on the table, his shirt ripped of his back before he laid down.

Cold liquid was poured in the middle of his chest, where he had a growing patch of hair that he was very proud of _thankyouverymuch_ , and more liquid down his chest, his stomach, belly button… and he gnawed on his bottom lip as the hemline of his Calvin Klein became wet, too.

Lips attached to his patch of chest hair and he could not help but look down his own wet chest. He watched lips trail down his chest, sucking on the liquid, leaving wet kisses in his trail, and Niall arches his head back, lips biting on his bottom lip he swore he could taste blood.

“You keep biting your lip I’m not going to be able to kiss you.”

Niall looked up to find him looking down at him, specifically his lips where he was chewing on his bottom one.

“Pity.”

But Niall parted his lips for him, pressed his hand to the back of his damp neck, and pulled him down for a snog. It felt so right, so wrong nipping on the boy’s bottom lip with his teeth, yet so sinful, but so, so _good_ to taste him on his tongue, he was addicted and he knew it.

Niall pulled his face back, his hand on his neck, to look at his eyes but forget his eyes, his lips were wet, red and so, so tasty and, _oh_ , delicious. He clashed their lips, Niall drunk on this boy, his tongue down his throat in seconds. Kissing boys was so much more fun. With girls you had to be careful, had to be gentle but not boys. They wanted firm, they wanted battles, and might, and were fucking hot, hot, hot and _dammit_ , he was hard.

Forget girls, Niall was addicted to boys.

 

**~    ~    *    ~    ~**

Niall woke with a start.

He was laid on something soft, like bed sheets and a pillow underneath his head. He had no shirt on, no socks on his feet and no jeans but he had his Calvin Klein’s. He squeezed his eyes shut as the morning? afternoon? light was seeping through his closed eyelids and all he wanted was to sleep… sleep the ache away.

Speaking of ache. He rolled onto his stomach and now he truly was awake. Why was he feeling a dull ache? _Way_ below? Like where he should _not_ be feeling an ache? Like his bloody ass!

He stretched his hand on what he now knew was a bed, searching for what he does not know but searching. He streteched his right hand and hit the table there. He propped his body on his elbows and … and no phone. Oh right. Did he not lose it at Kabb’s party? Or was it Kobe? Nothing on the bedside table. He took in his surroundings and it looked like a bedroom.

He got out of bed, enough with wanting to sleep away the pounding migraine, and _whoops_ , where were his clothes?

“You’re awake?”

Niall had never spun so fast in his life before but he did right there and then. He turned standing there, leaning against the door frame, was the boy from Kob? Kebb?’s party with the devilish smile, devilish eyes, devilish body, devilish… he was basically devilish.

“H-hey,” he croaked out. He cleared his throat, loudly, and tried again. “Hey. Um.” He briefly looked behind him at the unmade bed then back to him. “Fill me in?”

The devilish boy raised one devilish eyebrow. “Don’t remember last night?” He scoffed, leaning off the doorway and walking into the bedroom. “You said you were Irish and you don’t get drunk.”

“Did I drink beer alone?”

He laughed. At him, Niall knew and suddenly he felt self-conscious standing here in only his white underwear. “You drank literally everything, telling everyone at the party, you would be the only leaving sober.”

“Who are you?”

“Oh,” he said, a devilish, yet so, so hot, smirk etched on his lips. “I don’t think I introduced myself.”

“No.” The devilish boy did not attempt to introduce himself and Niall looked at him longingly to introduce himself. “Where are my clothes?” he asked instead, maybe this time he would get an answer.

“Threw them in the closet.”

All dressed now (new shirt, same skinnies), he followed the devilish stranger downstairs to the kitchen. He sat himself at the kitchen counter, leaning his head into his hands that were propped on his elbows.

“Hangover?”

“The worst.”

“Hope you don’t have plans because your hangover is not leaving anytime soon.”

He simply groaned in response. Whether devilish was a cook or was a lazy cook, he whipped a tasty mini-breakfast for Niall and a mug of coffee. And water.

“Helps.”

“Water is disgusting,” he mumbled. “But these sausages aren’t.”

“I make the best.”

“What happened last night?”

“You really don’t remember?” he asked and Niall shook his head. He leaned forward, undeniably close to Niall’s chewing face and suddenly he was not feeling as sexy as he felt yesterday around boys. Maybe he really drunk too much…

“You were the life of the party.”

Niall smiled sheepishly. “Sure?”

He nodded. “And you made out with like almost every other gay guy at the party. Even straight ones.”

“How many?”

“Who cares?” he laughed. “I’m glad I got to take you home.”

“You live here?”

“Yeah…” He was frowning.

“I—uh—it’s not a bad place. It’s just that.” He stopped, occupying his mouth with his coffee instead. The devilish boy took the chance to fill Niall in on what he was up to last night. Well, he did body shots with some boy named Albert, then made out with several boys, danced to reggae songs with a girl with long, brunette hair (Niall thought this was most likely Eleanor)(but seriously, reggae? He was not even a fan), then he met the devilish lad who they did rows and rows of shots together, Niall pushed the DJ off his deck and was one for quite some time.

“Was I cool?” he asked, interjecting.

“Oh yes,” he replied, in a way that made his eyes more black than silver looking over at Niall.

Next, because Niall was such a brilliant DJ and Kobb’s (Niall finally knew his name) house was in a quiet neighbourhood, the police stopped the party… or failed to stop the party. The party simply moved to another house which was already having a party so now there was double the people and double the fun. He made out with more boys, mainly boys, most definitely mainly boys, like 8-out-of-10 were boys… and the sun was rising and Niall stuck to him like glue and he took him home.

“Good thing I chose you then? You make excellent breakfast.”

He choked on his breakfast when he told him that they had sex. And it was the reason there was a dull ache.

“Was I good?”

“Oh definitely,” he answered, voice low and husky. “For someone who has never sucked cock, you’re damn good. You’ve got no gag reflex.”

Niall did not know if that was a compliment but he took it. “Thanks. I… I seriously don’t remember any of it, and I’m sorry.”

“No problem. Had the best shag of my life in a long time.”

And Niall ducked his head down, studying the color of his coffee instead. He does not know why he was not making a big deal out of this, out of losing his _boy_ virginity to… to this devilish boy, but maybe when he was sober he would like to take a moment, pause, and think things through. For now, _carpe diem_ and all that jazz he was spitting yesterday.

Then life hit him with a baseball bat: it was D-Day. Billboard Awards were today. He was meant to be practising his surprise song for the Awards. And where was Eleanor? Where  was his phone?

“Did I mention someone called Eleanor?”

“No… She your girlfriend?”

Niall did not want to analyse the sudden low register of his voice as jealously but he did and he smirked at the boy. “No. She’s my best friend and we came to the party together. Have you seen my phone?”

“It was ringing all morning and this afternoon as well. I had the liberty of charging it for you.” Niall smiled gratefully at him. “I’m running quickly in the shower, be right back.”

“Where did you find my phone?” he asked curiously

“Apparently, to take you home I had to find your phone. Because you were a rocking DJ, the entire party helped look for your phone.”

Niall’s jaw hung open but shook his head as he unlocked his phone. Fuck. 28 missed calls from his mother, 56 missed calls from Eleanor, 8 missed calls from Louis, 2 missed calls from Zayn, 31 missed calls from Liam, and one from Steve. He had unanswered texts too: 77 text messages from Eleanor, 23 text messages from Liam, 5 text messages from Zayn, 11 text messages from his Ma, 16 text messages from his brother, and 20 text messages from Harry. He had failed video chats, gazillion Snaps, and he dare not look at Twitter or Instagram.

But he dared.

He opened Instagram and went straight to his account. Oh gosh! He uploaded a total of 23 photos? In one night?? He scrolled down them, most of them photos of the party, one from a fast food restaurant he must have gone to, another of him upside down drinking from a keg, and one of Eleanor puking into a toilet.

He closed the App and opened up Twitter. It was worse here. It was like he was tweeting every other minute during the night (and this morning), and scrolling down his timeline he cringed. He had photos and photos of himself shirtless, others of him puking (how did he let someone photograph him puking?)(most likely Eleanor, he answered his own question), many with Eleanor laughing, taking shots, kissing… kissing?! He opened the photo and right there he had his lips on Eleanor’s and for the love of all the beer and liquor he drank last night, _why did he take a photo of this?_ Scratch that. Why did someone take a photo of this, and later upload it? He read the caption to that photo: _Bread had yeast_.

Bread. Had yeast?!

What the actual fuck?

What did bread have to do with anything? He combed his fingers through his hair as he scrolled down his timeline, a part of his brain wondering what the devilish boy was doing since he was busy on his phone. More evidence, more photos, and a yatch. He swiped down, looking at more photos of him of what looked like a yatch party. When did he go to a yatch party? He certainly did not recognize anyone at this _boat_ party but perhaps the captions did explain why he did not.

Looked like he gate crushed, yet another, party with Eleanor. There were flutes and flutes of champagne and captions for the next nine photos were various variations to _Champagne showers_ to which, well, he could grunt louder. He hoped he did not actually drink that much but judging from the fact that he cannot remember being at the yatch party, he certainly did. Hopefully not.

What was more was that he seemed to be dressed down to only his underwear on the 9th yatch party photo. He squinted, bringing his cracked screen phone to his blue eyes and yes, he was only in his underwear, and it seemed so was Eleanor. And the rest of the party! Why were they all naked? His questioned was answered when he swiped right and there was a photo of him, Eleanor, two redheads and a buffed man with a Sailor’s cap and the caption: _No clothes!_ with bikini, tongue and water emojis .

Well…

It seemed after the _boat_ party he was in a new house, with some familiar faces. Eleanor. Albert. The devilish lad… and more that he only recognized by face. There were sexual tweets, none that hinted that he made out with boys all night, or many _people_ for that matter, but still could read the underlying sexual hints. But perhaps the Katy Perry one was obvious…

**Niall Horan @NIallOfficial  
** _I kissed a girl and I liked it !!_

… but it was a photo of him kissing Eleanor square on the lips. So maybe it was not that obvious he had snogged boys.

He took a deep breath in, and drank the last drop of his coffee, his plate of breakfast empty.

He sent a short message to Eleanor first, telling her he was fine, his phone died and could not pick her calls, and where was she?? He sent a WhatsApp message to the lads telling them he would see them in a couple of hours at the Billboards location, ignoring Harry’s questions on whether he should wear Guess or YSL when he tells Louis he loves him tonight, and a another quick text to his Ma saying he would call her after the Awards.

_Look who’s alive!_

Niall rolled his eyes but he was smiling at his phone. He filled his glass with another round of water, phone pressed his ear as his the phone rang.

“Top of the morning to yer, Zen.”

_It’s four-thirty, Niall. And it’s Zayn._

Niall dropped his head to the kitchen counter. “Feel like my head is heavy.”

_Where are you?_

“I don’t know,” he said in all honesty. He was at his house, and that was all he knew. Oh, and in the state of Texas. “But I’m fine.”

_Niall. You’re hangover, tired, and probably severely dehydrated and you’re in some house with a stranger._

“Someone’s a mother hen...”

_Ask whoever you’re with to tell you where you are._

“I’m fine, Z, promise. He’s sweet, and nice, and sexy, and he—” _has lips to die for_ , he wanted to say.

_Niall, please, it would make me feel calm to know you’re safe. I’ll pick you up if I have to._

If Niall’s breath momentarily left his lungs, Zayn will never know. “Aren’t you busy?”

_No._

“That’s a lie.”

 _I’m literally just chillin with my girlfriend and Doniya. Nothing else._ A pause. _I’d offer to buy you Guinness but you’re hangover so I’ll buy you whatever you want._

"Whatever?"

_Yes._

“Okay. You just made a deal with the Devil.”

_Don’t care. Now go ask whoever is in that house._

 

Standing outside the devilish boy’s door, he bade him goodbye, thanking him for breakfast, and a ravishing night. Which,  if he had been way less drunk he would have 100% meant the word. Walking down the stairs, he found Zayn’s Audi parked right outside, the owner of the car leaning against it with a black leather jacket. He looked like something off a magazine spread.

“Do you always lean against your car?”

Zayn rolled his eyes as he opened his arms to hug Niall. “Thank goodness you’re safe.” He pulled back but his arms still on Niall’s shoulders. “Was proper worried… and you smell like sex.”

Niall blushed, eyes downcast. “Sort of had a goodbye sex?... He had plans, you know.”

Whether Zayn noticed the _he_ not _she_ he made no sign of it, too preoccupied on Niall being safe. “Too bad. He’s not safe.”

“Is too,” he protested. He got into the car as Zayn fumbled with the radio. “How’d you get your Audi to Texas?”

“Road trip with Doniya and Gigi,” he explained. Niall slowly turned to face him, his face asking a million questions and, as if telepathically, Zayn answered the burning one. “Yes, I drove from L.A. to Texas. And I’ll be driving back after Billboards.”

“Hmm. Where we going?”

“I’m guessing you’re not in the mood for restaurants so I’ll order from this Thai place I know, take you to the hotel, then let you sleep before driving off for the Billboards.”

“Hotel?”

“Yours.” Niall was pretty sure he was feeling disappointment, but was not too sure, the fresh memories of the devilish boy’s marks on his hips and back still lingering. “I called Eleanor since you apparently forgot to tell her where you are, her words.”

“I sent her a text,” he protested weakly. His mind was elsewhere. “You said you’re going with Gigi to the Awards?”

“Yeah. As my date.” Zayn looked over at him. “Why?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Why haven’t we moved?”

Zayn slightly frowned at him but did not say anything, choosing instead to let the sounds of Frank Ocean fill the car. After driving to Zayn’s special Thai place, and then driving to his Hilton hotel where Eleanor was suspiciously not there (until he read a note she had gone to the spa), he sighed happily as his head hit the pillow.

“Please don’t tell me you’re sleeping,” grumbled Zayn somewhere behind him.

“No.”

“Yours eyes are closed.”

“They’re opened,” he lied, feeling Zayn's body sink into the bed.

“I can see you.”

He popped one eye open to see Zayn staring down at him, a smirk on his lips. Those lips reminded him of devilish boy’s and how much he wanted t—

“When did you last eat?” Zayn asked, stopping his thoughts.

“Last night. Oily fries and I think milkshakes. Dunno.”

“That’s not food. You need proper food in your system.”

“Only if you stay.”

“Wasn’t going anywhere.”

Niall nodded and welcomed Thai delicacies on a blue plate. Zayn toed off his boots and got onto the bed, sitting criss-cross applesauce by Niall, as he recalled the night. Or the parts he remembered.

“Did you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Kissing him. Them.”

Niall nodded. “I don’t even know what it was but I couldn’t get enough. I loved kissing boys. Love kissing boys,” he corrected, spinning his fork around the noodles. “It’s sort of addicting, you could say.”

“Did you sleep with any of them?” asked Zayn.

“Just him.”

“And again before I picked you up.”

“Yes, _mom_.”

Zayn run his fingers through his jungle green dyed hair. “I was worried, Niall. Sure, I could see you were active on Twitter and Insta, having a great time, Eleanor saying you were fine, but you not answering calls was worrisome. And texts.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I—we—I told Eleanor that my Prom night in high school was sort of horrible and she said she would re-create the whole experience for me and I’m guessing this was it.”

“Experiments are, sure.” For some reason, Niall did not think kissing boys was an experiment for him. Sure it started of that way but now it felt like a sticker to his heart. “Was it your first time?”

“Not a virgin, Zen,” he chuckled and Zayn rolled his eyes, not at the statement but at the name.

“Zayn.”

“Give it up!”

Then, as if remembering what he had asked, Zayn playfully punches his thigh. “I meant with a guy. If it was your first time with a guy.”

“Yes. Can I tell you something?” he asked.

“Anything.”

“It felt good,” he said, trying to explain what he was feeling inside currently. “Like, sure sex with a girl is great and all but with boys it’s—it’s better, in a way. I don’t know if it’s because you’re with a boy so he sorta knows what you would like, want, but it just… is.”

“How?” asked Zayn and he looked utterly curious.

“I mean I didn’t fall in love or anything, course not. But I felt better than I have in a long time. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to right away.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he pleaded, locking his gaze with Zayn. “No one. Not even Gigi. Or El. I’ll tell her later, but don’t tell her. I just felt like letting it out of my chest.”

“S’alright. And your secret is safe with me. Plus you called me anyway.”

Niall stopped chewing. “Called?”

“Yesterday night. Telling me about how this guy had eyes that looked like the Heineken bottle.”

Niall facepalmed himself. “Please tell me I didn’t say anything embarrassing.”

“And you stuck your tongue down his throat,” he said, chuckling at the end of his sentence. “And he talked on the phone.”

“Shit.”

“He said hi.”

“To me?”

“To _me_ and wondered who I was.”

“Oh no!”

“You said I was your milkman.”

Niall choked on his noodles. “Milkman? What the fuck?”

Zayn laughed, leaning backward and eyes scrunched. “That’s what I thought when you shouted on the phone that I was your milkman.”

“M’never drinking again,” vowed Niall.

Zayn snorted. “Sure…”

Niall finished his food in record time, Zayn making sure he was taking sips of water as he ate, and Zayn suggested he take a nap before he was due for Billboards. He came back into the bedroom to check if Niall was sleeping but found him wide awake laying there.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“The curtains are drawn and the light is too much.” Zayn rolled his eyes though smiling warmly. He drew them and was met with a cuddly smiling Niall. “Nap with me?”

“If we both nap we won’t make it to the Billboards.”

“But—you always sleep. Have siestas.”

“And you make siesta cuisines,” joked Zayn. “But it’s fine. I’m blacking out after the event and sleeping till tomorrow lunchtime. Looking forward to that. Alright, it’s almost six, so until seven. That gives you a little over an hour.”

Niall nodded and then turned solemn. He reached out to grab Zayn’s hand but instead caught his ripped jeans and tugged on them. He chewed on his bottom lip, unsure of himself all of a sudden, but he had to ask Zayn. “Do you hate me?”

“Hate you?”

He nodded. “For what I am.”

“What you’re going through is pretty damn confusing but whatever you decide, I’ll still be your friend. Count on that, Niall.”

A wave of relief washed over him and he was glad that Zayn said those words because, right now, he needed to hear them, needed to know that in spite of it all Zayn would still be his friend through it all. Deep down, he treasured these words.

But Niall had to ask, “Really?”

He hummed under his breath and what he did next had Niall freezing in bed. Zayn’s lips pressed to his forehead, and Niall swore he lingered, and then they were gone. But then, as if the elevated heart rate was not enough, Zayn’s knuckles brushed on his warm cheek.

“Sleep,” he told him and it was dripping with lavender cotton candy. He shut his eyes and momentarily forgot sex with the devilish boy instead swooning under Zayn brushing his knuckles on his cheeks.

 

“We’re going to be late, Niall!”

Niall rolled his eyes and continued searching across the aisle for cookies. The official time for the Billboard Awards was at seven, the Red Carpet was two hours later at nine and it was currently minutes to nine and they were in the store shopping.

“We’re technically late,” he said idly. “Do you think if I get double chocolate chip it will have more chocolate than mega chocolate chip?”

“I don’t know. Take both.”

“You’re helpful tonight,” muttered Niall but still taking both types of cookies. “Listen. We’ve missed the official opening, and the red carpet, and the Awards show technically starts at ten.”

“They lock you out.”

“Not if you’re Beyoncé.”

“Oh alright,” Zayn said, tone sarcastic. “Let me hit Beyoncé up and tell her to hold the door for us. And to tell the Host to stop the show till we are seated front row.”

Niall skipped a beat before roaring in laughter. “You should’ve done her accent,” he said in between laughs.

“Niall!”

“I’m going to basically be sat for hours doing nothing but watch people get awards, I want to feast.”

“Pretty sure they have food at the venue,” drawled Zayn, following Niall down the aisle. “And we’ll be sat with good company: you’ll be with the guys, I’ll be with Gigi and Jawaad and I’m pretty sure Jawaad stuffed food in Gigi’s bag and Eleanor’s bag always looks big enough…”

He did not say it with venom, and it was almost bland, like a normal statement but Niall could not help but feel a little down at it. They would be separated, like they are right now, with Zayn on the other side, the four of them on another. They were in the same category, sure, but it felt like they were battling with each other for the British Video of the Year and at the same time it felt like they were still battling with each other since March 25th.

Here he was, standing before Niall trying to hurry him up, and he barely looked affected by that fact, by the fact that they were not brothers anymore, the five of them, and he made his peace with that over the past months.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked him quiet.

Zayn blinked. He was taken aback by his change in demeanour. “Uh, we don’t, um, we can spare a few minutes.” And Niall grins widely. “Just a few. I think Eleanor has been blaring your phone the minute I told her we were leaving the hotel which was hours ago.”

“My phone is on silent because I have _more_ people on my case. Especially now that I didn’t attend the Red Carpet.”

“And you’re performing your single.”

“Oh! You never told me why you didn’t want to perform tonight.”

“You never called,” teased Zayn and Niall could tell he was buying time.

“Did you not want to perform?”

“I have anxiety,” he confessed in the middle of the cereal aisle. Niall started to comment but Zayn beat him to it. “More than when I was in One Direction. I’m by myself now, performing on my own, not with you four. It’s as if my anxiety doubles, triples, every time and sometimes I can’t do it. I get paralysed and tonight—performing tonight would be a huge deal for me, what with my album coming out next week, and my single out, but I cou—I explained it all to Sarah, my manager, and she understood.”

“M’sorry.”

Zayn shook his head. “No need for pity I’m r—are you hugging me?”

Niall nodded on his shoulder, arms wrapped around him. “Yes. Hugs make everything better.” He nuzzled his nose, smelling the cigarettes he had smoked before entering the supermarket, the mint-like cologne he had and the smell of Zayn. “Haven’t you felt better after a hug?”

“Suppose.”

“Okay,” he said pulling away, “I think we should go now.”

“Now that we’re buying snacks, let’s get gummy bears.”

“I hope your Dad is a dentist because you’re going to need him.”

“Says the one eating too much chocolate!”

“Barely has chocolate,” he mumbled under his breath.

Getting gummy bears turned into getting sodas because _you’re not getting a beer before the show Niall!_ and because of that he got extra sodas and made Zayn pay for everything. They were in Zayn’s Audi driving (late) to the venue of the Billboard Awards.

“Who do you think will win Top Streaming Songs Artist?” inquired Niall chewing on his mega chocolate cookie.

“Who are the nominated?” he asked. Niall told him:  Justin Bieber, Selena Gomez, Ariana Grande, Demi Lovato, and Taylor Swift. “I think Justin. _Sorry_ was a pretty huge hit.”

“So was _Shake It Off_. Though what does hit songs have to do with social media?”

“I don’t know. Makes you more important or summat.”

“The Weeknd has been nominated for so many Awards, think he’s gonna win—Holy fucking hell!” He gasps and punches Zayn on the arm.

“Ow! I’m driving! Do you want us to get killed?”

“You didn’t tell me you’ve been nominated for Top Radio Songs Artist and Top New Artist,” he gushed, reading the list of Nominated Artists that Eleanor texted him three hours ago, again. “I reckon you’d win Top Radio Songs.”

“Taylor Swift looks like a safe bet.”

“Yeah, but do you know how many times _PILLOW TALK_ has been played on the radio?”

“Hopefully a lot?” he guessed.

“Plus, you’re basically competing with Taylor Swift and The Weeknd. And Bieber.”

“Great,” sighed Zayn as he reached and changed gears to 5. “Just gotta beat established artists to win the category. No sweat, right?”

“You will win.”

“Inshallah.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, curious.

“Means God willing. How are you reading the list of nominations now? Didn’t your people send them earlier?”

“That’s El’s job.”

“To read your emails?” Niall nodded. “Such a diva,” he said, under his breath. It was loud enough, though, for Niall’s ears and he threw several gummy bears to the side of Zayn’s head. “Do I have to repeat that I’m _driving_?”

He turned off his phone, not reading the countless _where are you?!?!_ Messages from what literally felt like the world, but most of all Louis. And Steve.

“Do you ever sometimes think that maybe your ancestors were royalty?”

Zayn had stopped asking and wondering about Niall’s random questions. He got used to them, popping at the oddest of times. “Royalty?”

“Yeah. Like they were part of the royal family and maybe in 1268 they were dethroned or the people revolted and the monarchy ended. Like, the Maliks were these huge royal family back in Pakistan from like 823 B.C. and only in like 1845 they escaped and sought asylum in I don’t know another country.”

“Like Mongolia?”

Niall chuckled. “Yeah. Though won’t the Pakistani people come for the Maliks in Mongolia?”

“Well cou—”

“Is Mongolia really a country?” he asked curiously, cutting Zayn off.

“Course.”

“Where is it?”

“Near Pakistan.”

“How near.”

“China is in between Pakistan and Mongolia. Though because China is one big country, it seems like it’s far from Pakistan.”

“How do you know this?”

“Common knowledge?” he phrased it as a question, momentarily looking at Niall munching on gummy bears.

“You’re sorta Asian so it doesn’t count.”

“I _am_ Asian.”

“See! Exactly my point.”

“I am not having this conversation with you,” he said but he had amusement dripping in his words. “What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?”

“Recently when I was promoting _This Town_ and I was flying from Italy all the way to Perth.”

“You can sleep on the plane.”

“Can’t sleep on a plane. I feel like I need to watch all the movies they have on the plane. Then listen to all the music they have. Then watch the Documentaries. Then the sports—that should be second, actually. Then I watc—”

“So watch everything available on plane TV?” Zayn asked, smiling at him. Niall nodded, giving him a lopsided smile. “That must have been exhausted.”

“Blacked out for the entire morning, afternoon that day. What about you?”

“I make sure I sleep every 12 hours. Like, in 24 hours I will have to sleep or else I will just sleep.”

“Just sleep?”

“Yeah, like a disease or something.”

“Get it checked.”

“This is one disease I don’t want to be cured of.”

 

They two did not miss _that_ much of the Awards show by the time they arrived, a few minutes to elven. They missed performances from The Weeknd,  Drake, Taylor Swift (to which Niall was bummed about), Twenty One Pilots, Travis Greene, OMI, and X Ambassadors.

Categories that were already awarded were Top Dance/Electronic Song (Major Lazer & DJ Snake featuring MØ _Lean On_ ), Top rap album (Meek Mill _Dreams Worth More Than Money_ ), Top Billboard 200 Artist (Adele), Top Hot 100 Artists (The Weeknd), and Top Gospel Song (Kirk Franklin _Wanna Be Happy?_ )  to which Niall said they did not miss much seeing as the categories they were nominated for had not yet been announced.

“Niall Horan?”

Niall turned from the back entrance him and Zayn entered to find a lady with her hair tied back with a black clipboard matching her outfit. “That’s me.”

“Your seat is this way,” she said, “and Zayn?” she asked and he nodded. “You’ll follow me too to your seat.”

“Are we seating close?”

“No.”

Not another word added and they followed clipboard lady down a long path with white walls. They could hear music seeping through the stone walls that sounded close to The Chainsmokers.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” replied Zayn eyes looking ahead. “You?”

“Don’t be. You’ve done this before.”

“Not like this.”

The clipboard lady stopped in her tracks. It was time for Niall to walk through the door, down to the fifth row where the rest of his band members were seated already.

“Good luck Niall,” Zayn said, hand firm on Niall’s shoulder. “You’re going to kill it with your performance.”

“Promise you won’t take embarrassing photos?” he joked and Zayn cracked a grin.

“Can’t promise anything.”

“See you before the after party?”

Zayn nodded. With a last hug, he walked through the door as Zayn followed down the path to his assigned seat. He sat down and ignored the piercing glares from Liam, Louis and Harry, instead choosing to listen to the joke  Host, Adam Lambert, was cracking.

“Where the hell have you been?” Harry harshly whispered.

“Out and about.”

“With Zayn again?”

“So?”

“He’s bad influence on you. You’re literally late. You weren’t here for Red Carpet and we were all sick and worried about where you were and you—”

“Give me a break, Harry.”

“We had to call Eleanor to ask where you were,” muttered Harry. “ _We_ had to call Eleanor and you know we don’t all get along with her. Just you. And Liam.”

“And of course not you because you’re in lo—” His mouth was muffled by Harry’ massive hand.

“Don’t you dare utter those words, who knows who might be listening.”

“Listening to what?” asked Louis, stretching his neck into the conversation. Niall did not have time to answer as someone dressed in black came to call them, asking them to follow him. They did, and Niall did a quick survey of the room realizing that other people were also getting up from their seats, one of them being Zayn.

They were about to announce British of the Year video and also, Niall was due to perform after X Ambassadors and Wiz Khalifa.

“Where the fuck were you?” yelled Louis as they were in some room, alone, the four of them. “We tried calling you for ages and you, conveniently, turned off your phone. Then finally it was on but it kept ringi—”

“He was with Zayn,” Liam supplied, unhelpfully.

“I’m so sick of hearing you and Zayn. It’s always Zayn this, Zayn that, Zayn, Zayn, Zayn!” said Louis rapidly. He talked fast and quick when he was irritated or angry. “Ever since you started hanging out with him you two have been awfully close and all we ever read is about Ziall rising and their blossoming bromance and when will _we_ be friends with Zayn bu—”

“Stop for once second Louis!” he interjected. “My friendship with Zayn has nothing to do wi—”

“On the contrary it does. You, me, Harry and Liam signed a pact to be in this boyband till the ver—”

“—It was his choice—”

“— And he decided to leave so suddenly when you are hanging out with the enemy—”

“Get off it Loui—”

“— It throws suspicion on your true motives. Are you really using him for your single or are you being friends with him?”

“Publicity,’ he answered several heartbeats later. “You know that.”

“It better be,” they said, menacingly. Niall did not have time to think about it as he was being called by the clipboard lady to go to the backstage where he would be performing _anytime now_. He was backstage, one lady talking in his ear, another telling him where to stand so that he would be under the light, another wiping his suede boots clean, and finally Eleanor who was wishing him luck.

“He sounds good, don’t he?”

“Who?”

“Charlie Puth,” said Niall, swallowing his sigh.

Eleanor turned behind her briefly to see Charlie Puth on stage singing the soundtrack of _Fast & Furious 7_. “He is, actually. You two would do a sick collabo.”

“Me and Wiz Khalifa?” scoffed Niall. “That’s more Zayn’s scene.”

“I meant Charlie.”

“You’re on in five, Niall!”

“Nervous?” squeaked Eleanor, her hands on his shoulders. “This is going to literally be a huge deal for you. Especially with the whole blowing off Vogue interview. You’re bigger than ever at this moment.”

Niall ducked his head, brushing his cheek on her hand. “Thanks El. Wish me luck?”

“Don’t need it but good luck anyway. I’ll be here the whole time.”

And off he was, walking to the stage. Let nobody ever accuse Niall of not being able to keep a secret. He had told Steve, his manager, about it or else he would be in real fire for what he was about to do. He agreed, majorly because of the whole Vogue fiasco. So, with help from Steve, called the Event managers of Billboard Awards and helped him set this whole performance up.

He brought the microphone to his lips, clearing his throat. “I know most of you think that I’ll be performing my single _This Town_ but I think we’ve all heard it before I thought I’d give your ears a break,” he chuckled and earned himself _more_ chuckles from the audience.

“I’ll be singing one of One Direction’s famous singles, _Little Things,_ and I’m here because the person this song is for is ridiculously nervous for what they are going to do and I don’t want them to back out.”

He took a deep breath in, setting his guitar comfortably on his thigh and tested it before he brought his lips back to the microphone, starting out the song.

_Your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me_   
_But bear this in mind, it was meant to be_   
_And I'm joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeks_   
_And it all makes sense to me..._

Zayn was the first to frown instantly recognizing _his_ part being sung in the song, even after years of not singing the song. He was curious

_I know you've never loved the crinkles by your eyes when you smile_   
_You've never loved your stomach or your thighs,_   
_the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine_   
_But I'll love them endlessly_

Liam and Louis had confused glances at each other wondering what Niall was up to. Liam genuinely was curious while Louis wondered if the song was somehow in connection to Zayn because really, all Niall had been talking, eating, breathing, mumbling was Zayn. And now he was singing about him? Louis grinded his teeth as Niall strummed his guitar.

_I won't let these little things_   
_Slip out of my mouth_   
_But if I do_   
_It's you_   
_Oh it's you_   
_They add up to_   
_I'm in love with you_   
_And all these little things_

Eleanor was mad at Niall for not telling him about his plans. Except it did not last long as her anger turned into awe and admiration. Niall was singing the acoustic version of _Little Things_ strumming his guitar and singing with his eyes closed, like he always did when he was really in the zone.

_You'll never love yourself half as much as I love you_   
_And you'll never treat yourself right darlin' but I want you to_   
_If I let you know I'm here for you_   
_Maybe you'll love yourself like I love you, oh_

The audience have their phones out and camera flashlight on. The lights at this point are turned off, the stage is dimmed, and it looked, for the moment, like a One Direction concert. Nostalgia flooded him, his eyes taking in the white lights in a sea of black. His voice cracked just a little but he sure as hell knew everyone noticed it.

_I won't let these little things_   
_Slip out of my mouth_   
_But if it's true_   
_It's you_   
_It's you_   
_They add up to_   
_I'm in love with you_   
_And all your little things_

Except it was Harry who understood what Niall was doing. Niall was doing this for him, it was all for him. How Niall got the management of Billboard to let him perform a song that was not a hit anymore, how he got his Manager to _not_ sing his single (which Harry was pretty sure violated some Article in Niall’s contract) and how Niall… how Niall got his whole thing down to a T, was beyond Harry.

He turned his head as Niall sung the last part of the song to Louis and felt that yes, he could do this. He would tell him tonight that he loved him.

He put a note in the back of his mind to thank Niall immensely with a year’s subscription to Golf Digest, to every golf magazine out there, to every and any Golf Club Niall wanted, the Platinum Membership even, and most definitely an unlimited supply of Guinness. He owed Niall the world.

Niall walked off the stage amidst loud cheers, applauses and whistles and mutlicolored confetti thrown on stage and the audience being showered with green and blue confetti. He thought Eleanor would be here backstage but she was missing but didn’t matter, stranger faces were there greeting him, congratulating him on his acoustic version of the song, and he smiled and mumbled _Thank You_ ’s to everyone.

The clipboard lady appeared out of nowhere and was beside him. “The winner of British Video of the Year is about to be announced so follow me.” Niall complied and walked behind her. He was led into a room with black curtains hanging from ceiling to the grey floor. The people inside the room were people he recognized: Coldplay, James Arthur, Little Mix, Zayn, and the lads. They were the nominated and only one of them would win.

Dan-dan-daaaan.

But looking at the room even more, it was not like that. It was not five people battling it out but two battling it out for the Win. On one end was Zayn, by himself, and the other side had the lads, Little Mix and James Arthur mingling together and one member of Coldplay talking to another Even official. And here he was, standing in the middle.

“Good you’re here,” Louis was the first to notice his entrance.

“Tell me it isn’t true, that you didn’t become my friend to get more hits on your single,” interjected Zayn, walking towards him.

Niall’s mind panicked. His heart stopped. And his mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert.

“Please tell Zayn that he was a fool the whole time,” smirked Louis standing before him. Behind him was everyone else while on the other side was Zayn, no one behind him (and the one member of Coldplay still on the other side of the room).

Niall could not reply as his throat was closing up and drying and all that.

“Tell me you didn’t just become my friend so that your song would gain popularity.”

Louis scoffed. “As if Niall would be your friend, not after your stupid stunt last year. Did you honestly think he would want to be your friend?”

“Tell me he’s lying, Niall,” said Zayn, desperately, and Niall closed his eyes. He could hear the pain in his voice, the betrayal on his tongue, the friendship crushing in his eyes that Niall could not bring himself to see. “Niall!”

“Tell him Niall,” it was Liam now speaking. “Tell him that you weren’t friends and you needed a little help on promoting _This Town_.”

“We’ve all read the texts,” Perrie supplied. Leigh-Anne agreed and Louis nodded haughtily. “No use lying to the traitor.”

Niall swore he saw Zayn’s shoulders slump and his Adam’s apple bopping up and down his throat. He still had not said a word, no words forming on his lips.

“Now that you have gotten the publicity you need, what with the Vogue interview, tweeting Zayn all the time, Instagramming photos of when you two were together, you finally got what you wanted, right?”

Zayn’s frowned deepened as Liam spoke, and Niall wanted to reach out and—he does not know. He could say the truth, he _should_ say the truth but his mouth forgot how to function so he stared helplessly as they told Zayn about his so-called plan on being friends with him merely to promote his single.

Each one, Louis and Perrie leading, picking Zayn apart for what he did since March 25th, most of it negative and Niall stood there and watched it all happen, not a word uttered in Zayn’s defence, nor Louis’ defence.

“All I need is a yes or no, Niall. Did you or did you not use me for publicity?” demanded Zayn.

He sputtered. “I— It’s no— I thi— I don—” He swallowed.  “It’s not what it is.”

“What is it then?” Zayn asked.

“Publicity,” answered Louis when Niall did not say anything. “And if you so stupidly think that the people around you want to be your friend,” Louis said addressing Zayn, snickers and chuckles floating around the room, “then you’re mistaken, fucktard. Right from Naughty Boy to Niall to your dumb model bitch, everyone is using you, milking you dry till you’ll be nothing.”

“Enough Louis!”

Finally, finally Niall found his voice. He had the attention of the room now, looks curious and a little surprised but he had no time to add as the Host, Adam Lambert, was announcing the winner.

_“And the winner of this year’s British Video of the Year award goes to…”_

They all stood still but Niall had his eyes set on Zayn.  He watched him, watched his eyes travel to the ceiling, blink several times, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His hands were drawn to a fist, tightly pressed to his sides and in this moment right here, Niall could tell Zayn did not care if he won the category, he did not care if he won every other category, if he won every Award that existed on the Billboard Awards list, Zayn had lost. He knew Zayn lost because _he_ lost him, and he felt like a right idiot for letting him slip between his fingers.

_“… One Direction.”_

Cheers erupted in the room, Perrie and Louis hugging each other with congratulatory remarks, Liam and the girls high-fiving each other, James Arthur and Harry jumping about, but not Niall. He was not in the mood.

“Congratulations,” spat Zayn and he shoved his shoulder with his walking past him.

“C’mon Niall!” cheered Harry. “We gotta go pick up our Award?”

 _What did he win?_ He found himself asking. _Loser of the Year? Dickhead of 2016? Top Shitty Friend?_ He took a step back and shook his head slowly.

“Wh—Niall!”

“I’m not going,” he said resolutely.

“What do you mean?” demanded Louis. “We won this so you’re walking with us to that stage.”

“Fuck you,” he croaked.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Niall, stop being a stubborn idiot and walk with us to accept our award.”

_“One Direction! Are they around?”_

Niall turned on his heels, feeling hopeless and deflated despite the positive energy around him.

“Where are you going?” demanded Louis. “You walk away you’re basically Zayn 2.0.”

“Sometimes you can be an insipid idiot, Louis,” he seethed. “I hate you so much right now, as much as I hated you during Eleanor’s baby’s funeral.”

Louis’ jaw clenched. Harry spoke, noting the sudden chill in atmosphere. “Niall, please, just come with us to accept it.”

“Go yourself,” he called out walking to the door.

“You walk away Niall and you’re technically not part of One D,” said Louis.

“I’d rather be out if _you’re_ there,” responded Niall and shut the door behind him. He leaned on the closed door and seconds passed before he heard Liam talking on the microphone, saying _massive thank you to the fans_ …

He pushed himself off the door and walked. He did not know where he was walking, but he walked, and walked outside, and walked, raised his hand and a taxi came to a halt before him. He got in the backseat, telling the driver his hotel and laid his head down on the back of the seat.

He threw clothes into his suitcase, whatever he could set his eyes on, closed it shut and walked out of the Hilton hotel and into a new taxi.

“Airport.”

The taxi revved into action heading for the Dallas International Airport. A tiny part (a big part) of himself wanted to know what he was thinking so he opened his Twitter app and _oh_. Maybe he should not have had to. He was right there on his timeline, tweeting, tweeting and all indirects to him.

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_Gave you all I had but you tossed it into the trash!_

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_Black and blue, beat me till I’m numb!!_

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_Tell the Devil I said hey when you go back to where you came from!!!!_

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_FIRST YOU LOSE TRUST SECOND YOU LOSE EVERYTHING ELSE_

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_It’s such a pity! Fucking asshole was so nice with an ugly, ugly heart the whole time._

The next tweet he tagged Niall and his heart sunk.

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_Cheated and lied_ _@NiallOfficial_

**Niall Horan @NiallOfficial  
** _I’m extremely sorry @zaynmalik_

He should probably not have done that but he did and it was out there for all to see. He sent a quick DM to Eleanor telling her he was heading Home. And that he might as well have attended  Willie’s wedding, he thought.

He got out when the taxi stopped before the airport. He paid and wheeled into the airport. He bought a one-way ticket to London, then another to Belfast in record time where he would be landing in a little over 13 hours. He checked in his luggage and headed to his Gate.

He received a Tweet notification from Zayn. He opened Twitter once again and it was right there on his timeline.

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_FUCK OFF @NiallOfficial_

And maybe that was what he needed to do. Maybe he needed to get out, not be on the inside anymore. He needed some fresh air, step outside and remind himself of… of everything he was and where he wanted to be because Zayn telling him off was neither where he wanted to be nor who he was.

He went to Instagram and deleted his account. Snapchat was next, followed by his secret Tumblr account. On WhatsApp he sent a middle finger emoticon and _3/3 one direction_ message in bold, watched it send, left the group, and deleted the App from his phone.

Last was Twitter which he did as quick as he could, not wanting to talk himself out of it. And officially, as he sat in the VIP lounge awaiting his 01H45 flight, he was off social media, off the cybersphere. He needed to breath, time alone to venture outside his world to find himself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! what a rollercoaster this chapter was, huh? And looking for GIFs... honestly it's a JOB finding the right one, the one that fits... I tried looking for the Calvin Klein christmas photo of El & Max but couldn't find it /:  
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly appreaciated ☺ & THANNKS for reading so far... next chapter will soon be up


	9. Mullingar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall stumbles upon the start..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENJOY ☺

> **You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you.  You have to go to them sometimes.  
>  ~ A.A. Milne**

 

“Chicken?” Niall groaned into his pillow. He pulled his blankets over his head. “Ye have a guest.”

“Who?”

“Eleanor.”

“Why did she have to come to you first, Ma?”

“Ye been shuttin’ the world out, she thinks ye shut ‘er too.”

Niall sighed tiredly showing his Ma his face. He got off his childhood made, making his way downstairs to find Eleanor smiling up at him.

“Aren’t you dressed?”

“Was sleeping.”

She promptly checked her watch. “It’s two in the afternoon!”

“This one ‘as been sleepin’ all day, and all night, I was startin’ tot hink am harbourin’ a dead body upstairs,” said Niall’s Ma. Unhelpfully, he might add.

Eleanor gawked at his Ma. “He has?”

His Ma nodded. And something strange happened, like some sort of silent communication that he suddenly felt out of place (in his own damn childhood home) and shrugged, deciding bed was a better idea.

Eleanor would have none of it, stating Niall needed to get out of the house A.S.A.P and that they would be going somewhere cosy for lunch. After he took a looong, hot shower, telling his Ma he will be back later, and driving roughly 19 minutes, they stop at a local bar and order.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Niall remained quiet. It had been three weeks since Billboard Awards, three weeks since _everything fell apart_ and he has not tried mending anything, or calling anyone, ever since. He stayed out of the cyber world for all those three weeks, not knowing what was going on in the entertainment industry, not knowing what was going on with his friends, the lads, and even Zayn.

 _Zayn_.

He rubbed his palm on his face sighing loudly into them. “I fucked up.”

“You did.”

“How’s he?” he asked, looking up from his glass of Coca Cola.

“Are you seriously drinking _soda_ in a pub? In Ireland? Isn’t that illegal or summat?”

Niall sported a smile. “It is but. Thought I’d cleanse for a while… whatever. Something… Answer my question!”

“He’s fine,” she answered not having to ask who Niall was asking about. “He’s not mopping about it. Well, from the little we talk, he doesn’t seem like it, but I could tell you hurt him a lot.”

“You two talk?”

She nodded. “It’s very shallow.” Their conversation stopped as their second round of drinks were brought to their table. “No beer?” she asked, eyeing his glass of Coca Cola. “You’re actually serious.”

He shook his head. “Thought I might cleanse myself till I eventually stopped feeling sorry for myself. Now tell me more about Zayn.”

Eleanor propped her hands on the table, leaning forward. “It’s been almost four weeks since your disappearance from the world. The last time you were seen was two weeks ago by some fan when you were in London shopping for spinach. Four weeks since your fight with Zayn, four weeks since you didn’t stand on stage to accept your Billboard Award, four weeks—”

“Are you summarizing—”

“No, Niall,” she said, sternly and Niall blinked. “You need to hear this. I understand shutting everyone out but not me. Not even your friends and Greg. The only person you’ve technically been talking to is M and she’s been worried sick that you’ll never get out of bed.”

“Sorry for shutting you out.”

“The fans are worried sick about you, too. Your Twitter account says you don’t exist, Instagram doesn’t load your page, and there are fake Snapchats of you everywhere. And two days after your whole deactivation Zayn got backlash for it.”

“Why?”

“They blame him for making you deactivate.”

Niall drank his glass of Coke. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

“For days on end he would get a lot of hate until Liam came to his defence. “ Niall raised his eyebrows in surprise. “He said that Zayn had nothing to do with your disappearance and everyone should give him a break. It stopped but occasionally there are fans sending him hate to date.”

Their food is brought then and Niall could not smile any bigger, he really could not. He took large bite into his ribs, chewing on it like he has not had meat for _years_.

“Honestly, did you not go out in these four weeks?” wondered Eleanor, adding ketchup to her burger.

“No. Was at home the whole time.”

Chewing, he asked, “What about them? Liam, Harry and Louis?”

“Louis,” she said, venom full in her voice, “was the reason why fans were giving him backlash. He cursed at Zayn for making you get off Twitter to which Zayn replied saying it was your own fault and they had a war of words I don’t want to repeat because it was _ugly_.”

“That must have gone down horribly between Louis and Liam.”

Eleanor shrugged, effectively ending the topic. “From your PA’s point-of-view, there are many agencies calling asking to be the first for your debut interview after your radio silence.”

“Famous me,” he muttered into his glass of Coke.

They fall into easy, flowing conversation with amazing, rich food that honestly Niall feels like he has not been eating proper for the last _year_. Do not get him wrong, his Ma’s cooking is world class, of course, but there is something about eating out of the house that makes you miss eating in the house.

They walked out of the restaurant, Eleanor’s hand tucked to Niall’s hip and his around her shoulders. They fall into step, walking down the nostalgic streets of Mullingar.

“I missed this place,” he said suddenly as they passed an old cathedral. “I missed this town.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. They walked some more, and stopped at a wooden bench overlooking a pond with ducks padding their way round. There were a couple of people, too, some feeding the ducks, others here to enjoy the afternoon sun.

“I see M has a new person in her life.”

“Yeah. Some fella named Charles. Charles Gallagher. They’ve been dating but not much.” He chuckled. “Don’t think a son sleeping his time away in bed creates a romantic atmosphere.”

Eleanor giggled on his shoulder. “You’re such a cockblocker.”

“I met up with Deo, Willie and all the lads on Thursday last week.”

“Oh?”

“Was a huge fight.” Eleanor said nothing, choosing to watch a black duck paddle its way to floating pieces of bread on the water. “No blood or teeth but loads of words exchanged. They were mostly mad I missed Willie’s wedding, they didn’t get why I missed the Awards and the wedding. The reason why I missed the wedding was because of the Awards and I was not there. Technically.”

Niall sighed deeply. He ducked his head, his fingers playing with the hemline of his checked shirt, the silence stretching between them. He was grateful for her silence, letting him _be_ instead of forcing it out of him.

“I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m not saying it to sound deep or some shit, I literally mean it. I am skipping interviews, I am performing songs that aren’t mine on huge platforms where I should be promoting my single, I never want to attend events because I get thoroughly bored, I kiss boys because it’s addicting, I hate—” He paused and took a shaky breath in. “I hate where I am.”

Suddenly Zayn’s words, _you live too much in your head, the wheels always turning_ , struck him then and he snorted. Oh Zayn, the one person who knew this about him, save from Eleanor, but with Zayn he knew it when they went candle shopping and Eleanor knew from _months_ of beign around him.

“I can’t do what I want any more just cause it’s my life,” he said referring to Eleanor’s infamous one-liner that had been playing in his mind ever since she strikingly said the words _forget everybody for a moment, Niall. It’s your life, do what you want_. “I have to fix my problems, take control once more.”

“You need to get outside, Nini, fresh air with ducks around, and remind yourself of everything you are and where you want to go.”

Niall hummed noncommittally and the sat in silence once more, watching an old man throw what looked like seeds to Niall into the pond.

“Has Steve called?”

“Several times. One of the reasons I came actually. You apparently turned off your phone.”

“I cut my SIM card in half.” Eleanor chuckled and he smiled despite himself. “Need to get a new one. What’d he want?”

“Progress on your album.”

“I wrote a song. Think I’ll send it to him.”

Eleanor raised her head off his shoulder and looked to him. “Really? Can I listen? What’s it called?”

“ _Human_. You can when we get home.”

“Sounds like it’ll be off the hook.”

He dropped his voice to a whisper, his fingers fumbling with the end of his shirt. “I’m scared. I don’t know where to start, who to start apologizing to because there are too many people I’ve wronged and hurt, I don’t know where to begin.”

“From where you feel most comfortable.”

So it began, Niall’s road to redemption.

Willie was first, his best mate whose wedding he missed. He made sure he was alone so as not to be ambushed like before, though his wife was there (Niall found the both of them at the pub)(no surprise there, really). He apologized, said he was sorry a thousand times over, and Willie being Willie, patted him on the back and offered him a round of beer. If there was anyone who could drink more beer than Niall it would have to be Willie. He politely declined and Willie did not ask why, Niall extremely grateful. Besides, how does an Irish lad tell another Irish lad he is not drinking beer? Or even begin to explain _why_?

Eóghan was next, his favourite cousin though he would never say this out loud to his other two cousins. He told him he was extremely sorry, for everything, really, and for not upholding the promises he kept spilling to him. Eóghan told him without reservation that he was an ass to Zayn for what he did.

“Ho-how do you know about that? Eleanor told you?”

“Doesn’t matter how, you were a right ass about it,” he told him sternly. “And he didn’t deserve that.”

Niall ducked his head. “I know.”

“Do you?” he questioned, implying Niall did not, in fact, know. “Because ever since the end of last year you’ve been this different Niall. You’re not the same Niall who came with us backpacking across Asia.”

Niall did not have words for that, had no comment so he merely nodded. Eóghan suggested they go for a beer to celebrate making amends and all, or really just to drink, and who was Niall to say no to free beer? Then he remembered that no, he has not drunk a drop since Billboards and is still upholding that.

“Why?”

He did not want to say the reason so he smiled at him, not saying a word even if Eóghan’s frowned deepened. They parted ways, then, and it was dark. He pulled his jacket closer to his body and stuffing his hands inside his dark orange jacket.

When he was fifteen, he tried cigarettes for the first time with his school mates, and he had a longing for the good ol’ times. Whether it was staying for a long time in Mullingar or it was making amends with the people of this town, but he wanted to get that feeling again so he popped into the local store and brought a pack of cigarettes to the till.

He started. As the cashier turned slowly, her blonde hair was familiar to his eyes. He knew the back of her head like he knew 2 + 2 was always going to be 4. She too started, freezing on the spot at the sight of the Niall Horan, her ex-boyfriend.

“Niall?” she stammered.

“Hi Holly.” He tried not to sound croaky but go for cheerful. He got both. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” she said, still full of shock and surprise at the sight of him. “What brings you back to this old town?”

“Missed home,” he said, truthfully.

She nodded and looked to what he was buying. “You smoke now? Is the hard life of a superstar catching up?”

“Thought I’d relive my teen years,” he chuckled. “A-are you busy now?”

She shook her head and said she would be ending her shift in fifteen minutes. He promised to wait outside for her. She came out, wrapping herself in a black jacket with a short dress and bright green stockings. He took out his packet of cigarettes, same as Zayn’s Dunhill, and dropped one cigarette onto his hand. He lit a match and the butt was bright red.

They were seated in a field of tall grass reaching their shoulders, the sky changing itself from blue to orange and reds and soon it would be a dark blue.

“How’s it?”

He handed her the cigarette. “Choking.”

“Don’t start,” she warned and took a long drag. “So what brought you back?”

“Missed Mullingar.”

“Big star like you doesn’t just drop off the face of the world and spend most of his time in this old town.”

He accepted the cigarette back between his fingers and took a short drag, choking a little as he inhaled it in. He briefly wondered how Zayn could smoke nearly an entire pack in a _day_. “I,” he twisted the cigarette between his fingers, “wronged someone who I shouldn’t have and because of that I feel like nothing is going right in my life.”

“We all feel that way at times, it’s not different.”

And, well, ouch. This was not was he was hoping to hear. He was being dismissed by the same girl who shot him down years ago.

“How’s McKibben?” he asked her, overtly changing the subject.

“We broke up a year after. He was,” she blew smoke out of her nostrils, “not my type.”

He changed the subject again. “I wrote my song about you.”

She did not say anything at first. Instead, he held his gaze as she brought the cigarette to her slightly chapped lips, took a drag, then blew it out through her lips. Her brows were heavily knitted when she passed the cigarette back to him.

“ _This Town_?”

He nodded as he took a drag, choking less than before. “Everything, everything was all you. When you left me, your scent was still in the air in my bedroom, I wanted to be the one to dance with you at Prom, to hold you but it wasn’t me. You gave me butterflies every time I saw you, made me nervous even if we had dated for years, my heart beat a mile a minute.

“I then kept seeing you with him all over: school, playground, pub, park, suddenly it was always you and him. You were on my mind and for years I didn’t know why you left—”

“Niall.”

“Why?” he looked up from the cigarette between his fingers. “Why did you leave me?”

“Niall, stop,” she said oh so softly.

“I—I just need to understand.”

You see, people often left Niall, or rather, that was how he viewed the world. It started with Holly Scally, then his father, then friends along the years, then too many people in between up to now, everyone was constantly leaving and he wanted to know why.

He drove himself crazy for months as to why Bobby left. Drove him to drinking every night before bed why people left him, what was the reason they packed their bags and walked out of Niall’s door.

“Why?”

“After you left, it felt like suddenly everyone was leaving: Bobby left, the band left, my mates from school, neighbours.” He inhaled sharply choking on the smoke at once. He patted his chest as puffs of smoke escaped his lips. “It felt like every house I built for someone was burnt to the ground, leaving ashes in its wake.”

 “Why are you building a house for everyone?”

“Because they are home.”

“Stop making a Home out of everyone you meet.”

Niall ducked his head, rolling the cigarette between his hands and decided to put it out. “Everything comes back to you, it always does for some reason, all because I can’t figure out why _you_ left. You were the first, after all.”

“It’s been years since we broke up, Niall, you need to move on.”

He swore he did, years back, but right now in this field of tall grass, it does not seem like it. He was still hung on people abandoning him, people leaving without a trace, without a word they are out of his life. One thing he was sure of was everybody leaves eventually. And perhaps he needed to learn this, have it engraved it on his pale skin, deep in his bones, and only then will he come to terms with abandonment.

 

The following morning he was still in bed but as he rolled to his left he slumped into something soft but hard. He blinked severally at the light filled in his old bedroom. He turned his head on his pillow and—

“Why are you here?” he asked Eleanor.

“Steve is pressing me to ask when you’ll be back on the cyber world. It’s been a week since I came…”

Niall groaned loudly into his pillow. He rubbed at his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them and yawning, cracking his bones into place as his hands touched the wall and feet the end of his mattress. He turned his head to his left where Eleanor was still looking at him, her head on his pillow, one hand tucked under it.

“Not ready.”

“He said you should go to L.A. as soon as possible,” she marched on. “He needs to know the direction you’re taking on your album, on what the fuck you’re doing right now, if it is part of some publicity plot or you’re really leaving the cyber world or the entertainment world.”

Niall turned on his side and now they were both laying horizontally facing each other. “What did you tell him?”

“I sort of hung up on him.”

Niall’s lips parted in surprise which quickly turned into a smirk. “He’s going to kill both of us. My contract does not allow radio silence on Twitter.”

“You owe your fans a little of the truth, Nini, even if you’re running away from Zayn.”

“—I’m not—”

“—Which is really what you’re doing.”

“Not true,” he protested.

“You’re hiding from him because you don’t know the first thing about him when it comes to this. It’s all new, this friendship of yours, this mending thing, and it frightens you because you think you know him but really you don’t. You don’t know the first thing about Zayn.”

Niall lips part to—to say that no, that was not true. Absolutely not. Except, it sort of was. He thought he knew Zayn, thought he understood him, but he did not. He gave Zayn everything, all of him, and Zayn gave him nothing. Maybe he was not paying attention to him, maybe he was too in his head on _keeping up with Zayn_ that he did not get to understand him and now he was left with nothing but his aching memories.

Eleanor left him alone to his thoughts but not without leaving her phone, conveniently logged on Twitter. He breathed in, rolling his eyes at Eleanor’s antics, and scrolled down her timeline. It was full of travel big names and wigs, and fashion Houses tweeting about New York Fashion Week, Niall update accounts, and not forgetting those sponsored Tweets that always popped up.

He got comfortable in his bed as he went from one One Direction update account to another, reading, searching, drinking in information for the last month. And he stopped. His mouth fell to his pillow: Larry Stylinson was a thing. Larry Stylinson was real.

It happened! Harry Styles got the love of his life, Louis Tomlinson. They were together. After years of pining Louis was finally his, and they were, well, what Harry has always wanted.

But at this moment he could not fully be happy for them, angry at one of the Larry Stylinsons’ so he moved on and typed Zayn’s name in the search bar. His Twitter page loaded and he felt an ache, an ache in his gut.

As he scrolled down his tweets, Zayn seemed to be doing just fine. Great, in fact. His album came out weeks ago, he was on a promotional streak for it. He was getting positive vibes, negative ones as well but generally all of it good. He was much more active, too, tweeting fans, messing about with them, uploading selfies that he honestly was tempted to like and RT. Instead he saved them onto Eleanor’s phone, each and every single one. He tried his level best to ignore (and delete from his mind) the flirty tweets he sent to Gigi.

The ache in his gut deepened when he reached the tweets that were clearly for Niall. He had not deleted them which in an odd way made Niall feel better. The words stared back at him, like a flashing neon sign.

  
**zayn @zaynmalik**  
_FIRST YOU LOSE TRUST SECOND YOU LOSE EVERYTHING ELSE_

This one spoke volumes and it was something that he dreaded. If he was to get off his ass sometime soon and say sorry, he might earn his forgiveness, but not trust. The trust between them would constantly be visible, like a crack on a wine glass.

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_It’s such a pity! Fucking asshole was so nice with an ugly, ugly heart the whole time._

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_Cheated and lied @NiallOfficial_

 

This was what Niall has been talking about. This was what has been nagging him, like pins and needles sticking to his body in a pricky way (was there any other?). This was not who he was, he was not a cheater and a liar, never in his life has he ever been this, so when Zayn, someone he held in high regard, said that it must have been true.

He had been in a bad place, was all the reason he could say right now as to what happened nearly five weeks ago, and up to that time. He had been on a bad streak what with the interviews, falling flat on said interviews concerning his single, his personal life, his… all of it. Except kissing boys, that was fun and addicting.

It all cut short to Zayn telling off being a wake-up call because that was most definitely not where he wanted to be. Or it was simpler than that: he wanted Zayn back in his life ad he had no clue how to begin.

He opted to tweet himself, owing the fans and all as Eleanor wisely put it.

 

 **Eleanor Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_Leave cornflakes in milk for two hours, then eat with fresh lemon juice~ NJH_

 

He does not know why he sent that Tweet. That should not have been his first tweet after his radio silence. So he tweeted some more, continuing on the random Tweet vibe.

 

 **Eleanor Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_Or for less than two hours because it gets sticky coz it’s like the milk disappears ~ NJH_

 **Eleanor Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_GROSS ~ NJH_

 **Eleanor Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_There you have it folks, on tonight’s show of ‘Cooking With Niall’ AHAHAH ~ NJH_

 **Eleanor  Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_Till next time, stay tuned (; ~ NJH_

He did not have to wait long for the tweets to flow in. And he read through them, not all of course, and replied to a couple.

 **Eleanor  Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_“@NiallerLover ARE YOU ALIVE??” ahah YES I am.. ~ NJH_

 **Eleanor  Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_“@harryloveslouis GET A TWITTER ACCOUNT PLEASE” Soon. Hopefully. ~ NJH_

 **Eleanor  Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_“@UR1DUpdater are you dropping an album?” I’m dropping a SINGLE soon xx WATCH THIS SPACE ~ NJH_

 **Eleanor  Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_“@ZiallRise Are you and Zayn friends again?” I need to apologize first ~ NJH_

 **Eleanor  Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_“@liampayno THE BOYS MISS YOU NIALL!!” HAHA ~ NJH_

He did not know what to honestly reply to that tweet so laughing seemed like a good option.

 

At night, when he was laid in bed, Eleanor in the other room, his Ma safely tucked, he could not sleep. So he got out of bed at minutes past two a.m., no use forcing his body to sleep, and put on the same jacket he had won several days ago when he accidentally met with Holly at the store. He made his way downstairs, as quiet as his Converse could, and closed the front door behind him.

One foot over the other, his Converse stepped on the dry pavement, hands tucked in his orange jacket pockets, snuggled warmly. It was not that cold out but he still felt cold.

On a second thought, Niall made a 180, saying fuck it, and heading down the road to the cinema theatre. In Mullingar, for some odd reason, the cinema theatres do not close. Ever. They were always open 24/7 and right now in the light (or dark) of the day (or night), he was utterly grateful.

Luckily his jacket had spare change from buying choking hazards people call cigarettes, and paid for some Bollywood film he did not know was showing. He bought the XL popcorn bag, 1L of Coke, and happily walked to the back row of the theatre. His hands dug into the caramel popcorn as soon as he sat down, loving the taste of melted caramel on his popcorns, and he was sure it would be over even before the _third character_ was introduced in the film.

He knew he was distracting his mind, pushing things he need to do and To-Do lists to the back of his mind, running from his problems that he has been avoiding for weeks now. He knew eventually he would deal with them, he has pretty much dealt with issues concerning his home town: Willie, Holly… and now it was time to deal with problems outside his Home town. Namely Zayn. Screw everyone else, they can go stick caramel popcorns up their ass.

As the advert for _turn off your phones_ came on, he threw his head back against the cushioned seat. Great. He came to watch a film to forget and here he was, thinking about it all.

The movie began, much to his pleasure, and he told himself that problems could always wait. He stopped running after them, stopped chasing them, and if they were still there when he met them halfway, he would solve them.

As for now, he had a XL bag of popcorn and a litre of Coca Cola to finish. With a Bollywood film to get lost in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANDS IS A TUNEEE!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAT?!?!?! i'm starting to wonder what the boys were doing IN one d?! like ?! their music is so, so good right now!!!
> 
> and is anyone else worried that LIAM isn't producing anything... or ever... maybe in 2045 he'll drop a single?... then the album in 2098. WHOO WHOO
> 
> **MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU** [;


	10. Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall is happy to be back on social media... but not so happy when he travels to Bradford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy ☺

> **I long for something that’s safe and warm  
> ** **but all I have is all that is gone  
> ** **I’m as helpless and hopeless as a feather on the Clyde**  
>  ~ Passenger

 

“Do you ever think of the future?” asked Niall ominously one Wednesday afternoon in April. “Like what the future holds for when we’re 30, 31, 32 years?”

Eleanor looked up from her knitting and raised an eyebrow. “Where’s this coming from?”

“One day I might look up, look around, and be 32 years. I’ll have missed life’s musical chairs: one is kids, one is career, one is friends, one is settling down, another is being spiritual, another is finding yourself, and more important life milestones that I’ll miss because I was too busy _working_.”

“I sometimes do.”

Niall nodded. “I might forget about _myself_ because I’m so worried about my work, about making things work and I’ll want more. People my age will be pregnant, others will be buying baby socks, some getting married, plenty getting their Masters, others celebrating their fifth anniversary while I’m here, trying to be a legend like Michael Jackson.”

“You feel regret?” she scoffed at him. “What about me? My parents don’t think that what I do is a _career_. They go at me for wasting so much money on my education, and for what? Traveling the world with some ex-band member?” Niall smirked. “At times when I’m touring magical cities, and talking about them, I wonder _when_ they’ll be proud of me. I think it stopped being a question of _when_ but _if_ they’ll be proud of me.”

Niall wrapped his arm around her and laid his head on her shoulder for a moment before going back to his knitting. “Do you think when we’re 32 we will get our life in order or will we be playing catch up?”

Eleanor squeezed his hand. “Whatever will happen when we’re that age, I hope that we won’t be stuck, that we will feel settled because we chose our lives and no one chose it for us.

“And that we won’t be getting the answers then,” he added. “Love you so much El.”

She planted a kiss to his chin. “You too. And speaking of love, you know Zayn is in Bradford?”

Niall sat up straighter. “ _What?_ What do you mean in Bradford?”

“He’s in Bradford,” she tried for the second time, repeating her words. Niall stared at her, and motioned his hand for her to expound on it. “He came some days ago. I think he’s having a get-together or summat. Everyone’s there, Gigi, Jawaad, his parents, sisters, his a thousand cousins…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he practically shrieked then lowered his voice.

“Because you needed to get off your miserable patch in your life and now that you’re sort of better now, I think you can get off your ass and apologize.”

Niall pouted and turned back to his knitting. “I wasn’t miserable.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, Nini. I’m the one person you can’t lie to. Plus, I told him he really wasn’t using you for publicity, you know, make your apology more acceptable.”

Niall could not help but smile at that so he nuzzled his face at her neck. “Thank you, El. You’re wonderful.”

“I know.”

“And proud,” he snorted in her neck. “When do you live for India?”

Eleanor, as part of her traveling career, would be visiting the sizzling Indian country for the second time, and this time she would be going to Mumbai.

“Tomorrow. And no, you’re not coming with.”

Niall had begged, repeatedly, if he could join her in Mumbai but she shook her head, saying Niall needed to get his career life in order. He went ahead to list why he would be the perfect person to travel with to a wild destination but she stuck to her guns.

“You just want to meet some hot Indian guy and not have me in the picture,” he huffed.

“You got me,” she said, deadpan.

“Alright class,” Ms Chuva anonnunced from the front of the Crotchet class, “that’ll be all for today. See you next week Wednesday.

“Thank goodness,” cheered Niall, “I’ve been trying to make a baby sweater but all it looks like is a table mat.”

Eleanor laughed at him. She lifted her masterpiece: a sweater dress big enough for a three-year old. “I think I nailed it.”

“You did,” said Ms Chuva standing before their table. Eleanor glowed under her compliments as Niall simply scoffed. “What were you making Niall?”

“Table mat.”

“Really? Today we were making children clothes made out of crotchet.”

“I was making a sweater,” he said after Ms Chuva levelled him with a look. “For a three-year old,” he added when Ms Chuva remained silent, her eyes focused on him and him alone.

“Keep it up Eleanor,” she said to her and walked off.

“Think she likes me,” she preened to Niall who rolled his eyes.

“She’s a witch.”

“Maybe Theo will want a table mat.” She began slowly cackling which soon turned to a laugh. “Or a hat.”

Niall rolled his eyes, stuffing his crotchet work he had been working on for a good two hours now into his backpack leaving Eleanor laughing behind him.

 

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

  
Niall passed all traffic lights as he insanely drove fast heading North. Specifically Bradford. On his drive, he was blasting the Rae Sremmurd fella Zayn loved because it made him drive faster, he thought. He reasoned that listening to Troye Sivan would make him drive less than 50km/h but with Rae Sremmurd he was doing a good 120km/h, 20 above the speed limit.

On the road to Bradford, somewhere a little past Norwich, he had listened to Rae’s album twice and he was halfway through his album when he changed to Passenger. Passenger had the same low tempo as Troye Sivan but he knew all the words to the _All The Little Lights_ album and Passenger songs were more road trip like (unlike Troye’s).

Passing Liverpool, Niall had sang all the songs on the album, having _Feather On The Clye_ on repeat, laughing at the lyrics to _I Hate_ , fast forwarding past _Life’s For The Living_ , having balancing tears on _Holes_ and singing at the top of his lungs to the rest of the album that he was a little dejected he had arrived at Bradford.

He was now in Bradford, it was all about finding Zayn’s house, or more specifically, his parents’ house seeing as that is where Eleanor said he was at this April weekend. He grumbled trying to read the directions Eleanor had written down on him on a plain blue paper and fucking shit, he passed the right turn four turns back!

He drove round, and round, and made a right turn, and another, and one more, stopped at a red light (where he pressed Next on his playlist), and many more right turns he was starting to think he was driving out of Bradford not _around_ Bradford.

He saw a familiar street sign – Grove Lane – and he knew he was close. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. Singing along to _Let Her Go_ under his breath, he drove up the road and according to Eleanor he was three minutes away.

He knew he had reached the place if the number of cars lined up along the road on both sides were any indication. There was music coming from the white house, he could hear, and his stomach plunged. He bowed his head against his steering wheel, hand gripping it tight.

He couldn’t do this.

He could _do_ this.

He could _not_ do this.

Of course he _could_.

He could not fucking do _this_!

HE COULD!!

He turned off the audio system and got out of his black Range. He smoothed down his grey plaid shirt, checked his dark blue jeans for any smudges (he should have won the black jeans, least you cannot see any dirt on them), and thought his Converse were fine. He walked down the street and headed for the house with a party.

He stood before the brown door with a plague written ‘The Maliks’ on the front of it. He could hear loud chatter, and more laughter, and a general ambience of family and friends. Something he was neither nor.

The door suddenly opened, girly laughter greeting his ears. She had black hair flowing effortlessly down to her hips, a lovely dress and eyes that sparkled. Damn the Malik genes, the envied.

“Hi!”

“Hey,” he greeted back, though not as cheerful. Arabic music was seeping through and could be heard where he was standing. “Is, um, Zayn in?”

“You must be Jeff!”

“Uh,” he stalled. Too late because she grabbed his arm and led him inside the house.

“Zayn’s going to be so happy you’re here. I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Hadiyya, with a double ‘Y,’” she introduced herself and all he could do was nod at her. “How long has it been since you two saw each other?”

“Long,” he said and really, it was the truth. If a month and three weeks is long, then yes, it had been long. Not that Niall had been counting the days...

She took his answer and continued chatting happily, the soft thumping music not stopping her from telling him funny high school stories about her uncle, Zayn. He did not mind, if he was being frank, it was better than waiting at the corner of this party for Zayn to return from wherever he was.

“Where is Zayn, by the way?” he asked curiously.

“He went to the store to get more ice with Gigi and Jawaad, he’ll be back soon. Are you not enjoying you—” He quickly reassured Hadiyya that of course not, he was enjoying himself. She beamed at him, he figured that was the right answer, and said they should get something for him to eat. “Are you allergic to anything?”

He shook his head. “Food-wise, no. I eat everything.”

“Hadiyya!”

The both of them turned as at another female’s voice calling for her. She began speaking in Arabic to her and Niall took the moment to add food, though it looked more like snacks, onto his porcelain plate. He momentarily wondered why they did not have paper plates, as it would be a safer option than actual plates.

“You’ll be fine with Layla, right? I need to go outside cause apparently Majid’s baby has not stopped crying and he only responds to me when his father is not there.”

“Yeah, go,” he told her, simultaneously wondering who Maj _someone_ was. “I’ll be fine.” She left, not before grinning at him, and it was just the two of them. Well, not really, the house was full of family members and friends but because Niall knew no single soul at the party, it was really the two of them.

“Which one of Zayn’s white friends are you?”

 _Niall_. “Jeff,” he lied.

“Really? You look like that Steve guy,” Layla said, her narrowed eyes on her.

“Who is Steve?” he asked, still holding onto his plate of snacks, not having taken one bite. He was starting not to feel hungry.

“Some jerk.”

Niall nodded and stuffed his mouth with something vegetable-y and far, far too much chilli. He glanced around the large room he was in, a sea of people chattering away, most of them speaking Arabic (or was it Urdu?), mingling and having a blast. He does not think there is a better way to spend a Saturday late afternoon.

His eyes were watering. Oh dear, he should find water.

“You don’t look familiar though,” she said and Niall cut his people watching to turn to Layla. “You look familiar, yes, but not Bradford familiar.”

He began to sweat under his armpits. “Uh…. Do you have water?”

She pointed with her long finger behind him and oh! He should have turned around earlier. He gulped the tiny white glass of water in one go and took another.

“Are you even Jeff? Or whoever Hadiyya says you are?”

“I-I am,” he protested weakly. He need to put his untouched plate down or his sweating palms would slip between his fingers and drop to the expensive looking carpet.

“No, no you’re not. I _know_ Jeff because he used to take care of Zayn’s pet iguana and you look nothing like him.”

“I dyed my hair.”

“He was a natural blond. You just dyed your hair,” she said as she pointedly looked at Niall’s hair, and he could feel the roots of his hair on fire from how uncomfortable he felt.

“I… I am Jeff.”

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, not believing him anymore.

“I’m Niall.”

Her frown deepened even as he said it. “Niall,” she said, testing the word on her tongue. “Niall? Now where have I heard that name before….”

Niall swallowed. He stared back at her as she tried to figure out where she had heard that name. Someone passed by both of them and Layla gripped his shoulder. She spoke rapidly in Arabic (or Urdu) to him and for the first time, Niall was sure is one of Zayn’s many male cousins, turned to Niall with a curious eye.

He should really set his plate down. Somewhere, anywhere.

“You say you’re Niall?” he asked. Niall nodded. He extended his arm for Niall to shake. “I’m Munir, pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.”

Layla did not seem too pleased with this and it looked like she was rebuking him, and the only words Niall got in that sentence were ‘One Direction’ and ‘Zayn’ and he was starting to feel uncomfortable.

He excused himself amidst their bickering, and looked for the bathroom. He found it, odd that the door was open, and he locked it. With the key. He pocketed out his Samsung, praying Eleanor would be awake at this time what with the time difference between Great Britain and India, as he called her.

She was not answering. He opted for texting.

 **NIALL:** PICK UP YOUR PHONE!!

 **NIALL:** WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?

 **NIALL:** It’s not going well! I lied that I was Jeff (apparently he was Zayn’s friend back in high school) and now one of his cousins, with a serious bad vibe, is doubting me!!

 **NIALL:** So I made a mistake saying I was Niall and she didn’t know me at first but this other cousin came and they started speaking talking in NON-ENGLISH and I heard the words ONE DIRECTION in there. I think they know.

 **NIALL:** FUCK!!

 **NIALL:** I think they know ME. I think they know about what happened at Billboards.

 **NIALL:** I THINK THEY KNOW I “USED ZAYN FOR PUBLICITY”!!!!!

 **NIALL:** And Zayn’s not even here.

 **NIALL:** But his scumbag of a bitch GF is.

Okay. Niall needed to calm down right there and then or else he would go down a Hate Zayn’s Girlfriend slippery slope. That was for later. Right now, he needed to calm his burning, red cheeks, wait for Zayn to arrive, and apologize for being a dickhead. Asshole. A cheater and a liar. And then maybe he would fuck off if Zayn did not accept his apology.

“Fuck,” he sighed, panicking rising in his gut.

What if Zayn did not accept his apology? What if he wasted his time driving to Bradford on a whim only for him to reject him? Shit! How was he even to apologize? Would he ask him to be alone? Go outside?...That was not an option as outside was just as packed as it was on the inside.

Would he whisper it? Say it normally? Say it with conviction? With sorrow? Should he tell him how he missed him for those months without him? Tell him he was a dickhead? He probably will say that, might make his apology be more acceptable. But then, if for a horrifying reason, he apologized in front of _everyone_ then that would be mortifying. Or, worse, what if Gigi is right there beside Zayn listening to him say how sorry he was and an idiot?

He would never live with himself. Oh the mortification of _her_ being there…

 **NIALL:** Why are there no blue double ticks? Why are you not on WhatsApp when I am going through an emOTIONAL CRISIS?

 **NIALL:** NO! I AM NOT BEING DRAMATIC!!

 **NIALL:** I REALLY AM.

 **NIALL:** FUCK ME! I’LL DO THIS ALONE

 **NIALL:** Update later?

He pocketed his phone back into his back pocket. He looked at himself in the bathroom, slapping his cheeks and making obnoxious motions with his mouth, and took a deep breath: here goes nothing.

He made his way downstairs and. And, he could not put his finger on it, but the party changed. Sure the Arabic music was playing loudly around the party, the guests of family and friends were chatting and laughing happily and people were having a merry good time. But it still felt different.

For one, Layla was the first person that caught his eye. She had a menacing look on her, a cross between snappy and disgusted. To the left of the room he saw a nameless face with the same look on his face. To the one near the makeshift bar, had his eyes narrowed into pure slits. His eyes scanned past the room and it was like he could spot all the nameless faces that were angry. Angry at _him_.

 _They know_ , he told himself. They know about the Billboard Awards.

His first thought was a strategy exit. His eyes flew to the door but one of the nameless faces that were angry at him shifted to stand before the door. He panicked. He looked to the other side of the room, at the other door leading to the garden. It, too, was blocked.

He was now at the bottom of the stairs and he before he could think of another exit strategy he was surrounded.

“Niall,” Layla said, dragging his name through rubbish and dirt, “Horan, is it?”

He swallowed.

“You’ve got some nerve coming here at a family and friends only party,” said a nameless male face.

“I came t—I don’t mean any harm.”

“Too late for that,” scoffed a nameless female, “you harmed our Zayn when you were simply using him for your selfish gains.”

“It’s not true.”

“So you didn’t use him to get your song popular?” Niall was asked and he shook his head. “Liar is what you are.”

“And now you came here to, what, say you’re sorry? How do you really feel, Niall, okay in the head?”

He frowned. He seemed fine. “I feel fine, thank you very much.”

The nameless faces laughed in his face. One by one, the battered him, saying he was not good enough for Zayn, that he was wasting his time, that he and Zayn would not be friends and he should give up.

“There is a reason he left you,” one said to Niall, stepping close to him, “a reason why he left One Direction because he was, and is, not happy around you.”

Niall’s hand absentmindedly hugged his stomach. “Not true.”

“Think about it Niall, why would he randomly get up and leave? After five years? For years he would tell us everything, cry that he wasn’t happy, that he did not feel included, and the one reason that brought him to the X Factor, to sing, he was not doing fully.”

“He was,” he said, under his breath.

“And what did four of you do? Not one of you did you stand up for him. When he was shot down for the songs he sung, when Julian or whatever his name is said his voice was too Rap-like and he had to be auto tuned, when he would spend days in his room on his tour breaks and not speak to any of us? Where were you?”

Niall did not know. He did not know literally and figuratively.

Another nameless face spoke up. “So if you think that we’re going to let you just come back in his life, you’re gravely mistaken. You’re never going to come within a kilometre of Zayn if we having anything to say about it.”

“And take a look around,” – Niall did only briefly to take a deep breath and clutch his stomach –“and see that you don’t have space to be in Zayn’s life. You were kicked out when you left and furthermore when you used him for publicity.”

“This is how life is right now, Niall,” said Layla, a voice Niall has etched into his memory, “you on one side, Zayn on the other, and in the middle is this large brick wall that you will never tear down.”

Niall’s hand held onto his stomach tighter. This was not happening. This is definitely not how he pictured it in his mind. In his mind, it was the five of them, brothers, standing on one side of the wall because they were brothers. They were all brothers, friends forever, and as life moved on, they would always be brothers. Not this shit of one on one side, him on the fence, and the other side his other three brothers.

“Niall?”

Niall started. He looked up from where he had been looking at the carpet and there, there was Zayn. He was now stood, on the other side where his cousins and friends were (and Niall was doing his very best not to include Gigi), and looking at him, and of all that is good and evil, Niall truly, utterly missed him. Blinking at him, Niall saw that his hair was shorter and black, he was donned in a superhero shirt (Niall embarrassingly not knowing which superhero) and his signature black boots, not forgetting his black jeans – now ripped.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asked him. It was as if the party collectively held their breaths.

“To apologize,” he swallowed, his hand strong on his stomach.

Zayn frowned, the corners of his lips tugged down. “There’s noth—”

Niall could see the triumphed smirks on their faces so he stopped Zayn before he finished his sentence. “There is something to apologize for: me. For being an ass.”

Whether Niall was suddenly a keen person or he just paid attention to Zayn, he saw his jaw tense but eyes soften. Just a little. It was clear he was not going to say anything and Niall was sure he was visibly sweating under his shirt and his hairline.

“I am sorry that—I’m sorry I used you for publicity, to get.” He stopped to comb his hands through his hair. Weeks of planning, hours of pumping himself up and now seconds into his apology, he was messing it up.

“I’m sorry for being a cheater and a liar about everything. I am sorry that I was not a friend to you. I am sorry for making you believing that I used you for publicity. I’m sorry for not standing up to Louis and the lads at the Billboards when they lied that I used you. I’m sorry for everything before that.

“Sorry for not standing to Simon and the rest when you wrote so many beautiful songs. Sorry for making you feel left out in the band, sorry for not speaking when I should’ve have, sorry for the fans turning against you, sorry for making you feel guilty for leaving One Direction. But most of all I’m genuinely, genuinely sorry. I’m sorry for me,” he added, quiet but those near Niall heard.

And he did the unspeakable.

His hand did not come up fast enough to cover his mouth so he vomited his guts onto the expensive carpet. In the distant he heard hushed gasps and voices of disgust, except he was too busy being mortified because what has he just done?!

He was on his knees, staring down at his late breakfast, his nose scrunching at the smell hitting him. He was not done though as he cupped his mouth, trying desperately not to let _any more come out_ but it seeped through his fingers, and onto the floor, his jeans and trailing down his arm.

“I’m-I’m so sorry,” he said, voice watery and full of mortification. Niall had never wanted to die like this moment right here.

“You’re so disgusting!”

“Is that my carpet?” the voice of an older woman bellowed through the crowd that now had formed a circle round a kneeling, weeping Niall. “My expensive carpet?”

Whether he spoke in Arabic, or English, or even Urdu, Niall would recognize Zayn’s voice anywhere. He spoke to the woman in what did not sound like Arabic who replied back to him in the same language.

To add mortification onto mortification, he scooped the puke from the ground and there was a round of gags heard. He does not know what he was trying to do, perhaps cleaning up his smelly vomit, making it look smaller, but he was scooping it in his hands and pushing it away, trying to make it look like a smaller mess.

Two hands gripped his wrist and pulled them wide apart. He looked up and he was face-to-face with Zayn who was raptly looking at him. He looked determined not to look at the smudges of vomit around his mouth, nor the large chunk by his boots or the dripping vomit on Niall’s hand.

“Leave it.”

Niall loosened his hold from Zayn. “I—I have to clean it up.”

“It’ll be cleaned.”

Niall shook his head, ducking it down. He vomited and Zayn saw that, he could not let Zayn see him crying too.

“By who?” asked someone in the crowd.

“Me,” Zayn said in a low voice that shut any other protest that thought it could speak. He turned to Niall holding his arms as far from his vomit as possible.

“You-yo—I’ll clean it. Promise.” Niall sniffed. “It’s—I’ll also pay for the carpet.”

“Stand.”

Niall complied. He did not raise his gaze, not wanting to look at the people looking back at him with various degrees of surprise, disgust and simple shock. With a hand on the small of his back, Zayn guided Niall out of the room, and up the stairs to the bathroom he had been at earlier.

“I’m real—”

“Wash your hands, I’ll bring you spare clothes.”

Niall deflated but complied. He washed his hands with soap, found mouthwash to shower his teeth, gums and tongue with, and a cloth to wipe the remnants of his vomit off his jeans. Zayn came in carrying a change of clothes and what looked like cologne.

“You need to change. You still smell,” he said, a small smile tugging on his lips.

He smiled back, albeit a dull one. “I think I’m good. Not like I’m meeting anyone after this.”

“Why did you come?”

Niall bowed his head from where he was sitting on top of the toilet seat. “I. I wanted you to know that what I told Louis and the rest was not true. I genuinely wanted to be your friend, not use you for publicity.”

“Why lie to them?”

“It was easier,” he replied truthfully.

“Do you know how I felt?” Zayn asked and while Niall could smell his vomit off him he could also smell the hurt in his voice. “I felt like you were ashamed of me.”

“That’s no—”

“You were ashamed to be my friend.”

“That’s not true.”

“Is it not?”

“Eleanor knew, the fans knew, my friends knew, everyone knew I wanted to be your friend.”

“Louis and the rest are your trusted friends,” said Zayn, arms crossed on his chest, “and if you could not tell them the simple truth, I can’t figure out why you’d lie.”

“I guess I was ashamed.” He dared to raise his gaze to Zayn who was already looking back at him, frowning deeply. “I desperately wanted to be your friend and whatever lie I had to tell to keep you in my life, whatever twisted version of the truth, I would say it. But then it happened all so fast and you were gone. You walked away and—and that triggered something I’ve been battling for a long time.”

“What?”

“Abandonment.”

“Abandonment?” echoed Zayn.

“Everybody leaves and over the years I learnt that you can’t stop people from leaving and it was only recently when I was back at home, visiting and reconnecting that I learned it’s not my fault that people leave. At least not always,” he added chuckling but the chuckle died when Zayn did not join in.

“Being my friend is something to be ashamed of? Because really what would anyone think?”

“No,” he blurted. “That’s not it at all, Zayn.”

“Then what is it?”

“I miss you.” Curse his no brain-to-mouth filter but now that he began he might as well continue. “Yes, I missed you, still do. We barely had been friends but I missed you so much and while I should’ve apologized, my life was not going right either and since apologizing to you was the hardest thing I was going to do, I started with everything else in my life.” He run both his hands through his hair and stopped on the back of his neck. “I just want you in my life, and never want you to leave.”

There, he said it. The truth was out there now, in the open in this bathroom, and his heart rate was dangerously increasing by the minute. After a stretch of silence, Zayn pushed himself off the tiled wall he had been leaning against and walked to Niall. Niall automatically stood, unsure why, but he did and they were standing before each other.

“Don’t you ever lie to me again,” Zayn told him, voice dripping with ice. And Niall found himself nodding. “Be honest with me, Niall. There are too many people in my life who’ve never been honest, truthful, spitting lies here and there. I spend too much time wondering what’s a lie and what’s the truth and... and you were one of them.”

Niall felt a stab in his chest. _No_ , he screamed internally, _I am not one of those people_. Also, hearing Zayn say all this, confess this to him right here in the bathroom, he could hear years of exhaustion, years of beating himself up for being naïve, years of doubting himself for trusting the wrong people in his life, and much to Niall’s dismay, he was now on that list of those people.

He did not say anything, choosing to look to Zayn’s right where there was the shower curtain. Two hands tugged his chin up and found Zayn with a small smile on his face. “I see you still live in your head so much.” Niall shrugged one shoulder. “Look up once in a while, yeah? You might miss out on all the opportunities life gives.”

He took a shot in the dark by asking, “Like your forgiveness?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

Niall’s eyes popped wide in surprise. “I have it?”

He nodded, back to solemn. “Eleanor texted me on Twitter explaining that whatever you told Louis and the lads was a lie and while she did not know the reason...” Zayn paused and looked pointedly at Niall.

“She didn’t,” he confirmed.

Zayn nodded curtly and continued, “She said you wanted to be my friend again.”

“She’s right.”

“Why’d you take a month to apologize anyway?” he asked, his voice having humour in it.

“Went home to Mullingar.”

“You finally went Home?” He nodded. “Did you and Willie talk everything out? About the wedding and all?” He nodded some more. “You can speak, you know?”

Niall breathily laughed. “I—I think I should go.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll see you around,” said Niall hopeful.

“Why aren’t you on Twitter? Or any social media for that matter?”

“Needed some time alone,” he answered as they made their way out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Because Niall was not on Twitter, or other social media accounts, he gave Zayn his new number in case he wanted to talk to him ( _or whatever_ , he added). Zayn chuckled and saved his number to Niall’s phone.

“Why did you park so far?” asked Zayn when Niall pointed to where he parked his car.

“There are too many cars here.”

“But that’s like a trek.”

“Just a couple of hours,” he joked. He scratched the back of his neck, silence falling between them but around them Arabic music was still playing and chatter of people as well.

“Text me when you reach home?”

“Yeah.”

Zayn nodded at him. “See you, Niall.”

“Bye Zayn.”

 

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

 

It was Denise and Greg’s two year anniversary and to celebrate he paid for all their expenses for a two-week trip to Cancún, Mexico where they needed a R&R. Theo Horan would not be heading with them, Niall insisting that it should be the two of them, so for the last week Theo was with his Ma in Mullingar and this week it was Niall’s turn to spend time with his little nephew.

They did several things together. The first day was a little slow what with Theo spending almost all his time sleeping he had to call his Ma the following day asking if it was normal. The third day he was über hyper he almost missed sleepy Theo. In the afternoon, they went to the park where he spent his time in the sand box with other three-year olds making sand castles and houses, or attempting to. The looked more like blobs of sand.

He spent a good time in the bathroom that evening washing the sand out of Theo’s hair.

There was somewhat of a play date for children up to 6-year olds that Greg took his son every Thursday and without fail Theo would be attending. It was odd at first, he felt as if he had walked into a portal to Disney Land.

Theo pulled his hand forward, shouting, “The bouncy castles!” above his lung capacity, several parents eyeing them curiously. He allowed Theo to pull him and, well, he understood why he was excited. The said bouncy castle was _massive_ – it looked like an actual castle. Like a floating, lavender bouncy castle to be specific.

“Don’t you need to take off your shoes?” he asked Theo when they were at the entrance of the castle.

Theo nodded, taking off his sneakers and throwing them at Niall. He ran off and disappeared behind the floating door.

“He’s going to be fine.” Niall turned to his left from where the voice came from. “Most parents get scared when they see their children disappear in there but they’re a hundred per cent safe.”

“Are you sure?” he could not help but ask, one eye on the door of the castle. “Doesn’t look too safe from here…”

She chuckled a little bit. “I assure you when he comes back, in about 30 minutes, he will be all smiles and laughter.”

Niall chose to trust her, seeing as she was an expert at all this and Theo came here every Thursday. So he stood a bit further from the castle, but somewhere where he could watch the door easily. He found himself standing with a crowd of parents, all having the same idea.

There was nothing to do so he perched himself on the cotton ground (yes, the ground was literally made of cotton) and kept Theo’s shoes close by.

Niall Horan, after a _long_ conversation with his manager Steve, was back on all social media accounts. Rather, he was back on Twitter, as a start. He got the notification from his manager yesterday night saying his account was activated and already he had 7.9 million followers.

He was somewhat happy to be back on Twitter and at the same time he knew he would miss the not-logging-on-Twitter phase he had months back. But because he was an artist, and he had a new single coming out next week, and seeing it was wise not disappear for too long to be considered irrelevant, he agreed to have a new Twitter account.

“You’re bigger than before,” Elena had gushed on the phone to him days ago. Niall never did know what her actual job was, just that she does something something managing something of social media something something. Oh, and damage control... of something something.

“All I did was reject Vogue’s interview,” replied Niall, not up to her par of excitement.

“But you don’t get it, Niall. First, you do not appear at Vogue’s interview, which, is a bigger deal than you will ever realize. Nevermind the fact that from now on you will never appear in anything Vogue-related but the outcome was on your side what with everyone talking about how bad ass you are.”

Niall certainly had not feel “bad ass” that day. He felt a tiny bit guilty but he was starting to get irritated by the endless questions asked about his single _This Town_ in interviews and elsewhere.

Elena continued. “And then at the Billboard Awards where you famously made an emotional dedication to Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson about their Larry Stylinson relationship. And then, as if the night could not just _end_ , you famously did not stand with your bandmates when One Direction won the category you were nominated in.”

Niall had smiled in nostalgia as Elena gushed over the phone. Despite what happened thereafter, he did love dedicating the song to Larry Stylinson.

“People were asking where you were, what happened, it was literally seconds after you performed so you could not have disappeared into thin air. Uh, hello, life is not a horror movie! And then suddenly, as if the whole not-appearing-on-stage was act not enough, one by one your social media accounts were non-existent. And then you disappeared. _Poof!_ ”

“I sound like a bad plot of a movie,” Niall had chuckled.

“You are a genius!” Elena had cried excitedly. “You should’ve faked your death or something.”

“Didn’t have enough fake blood for that,” joked Niall. While Niall really had not used Zayn for publicity, he had got exactly that. “But do you think people forgot about me?”

Turned out no, they had not, as Elena had said, “People are waiting for your next move with bated breath.”

And ever since Niall wondered what would be his _first_ Tweet. He had followed Eleanor, Zayn, Liam, Harry, Louis, his family, his cousins, his friends, his celebrity friends including Kalani Pe’a and Andy González… all totalling to 43 followings. It was ridiculous that there were articles about _who_ he was following, who he was _not_ following, why he was following them… he read them all in good humor. Also, not forgetting update accounts, moreso the Niall and Ziall update accounts, solely updating on who Niall has been following for the past few days and a couple of Zigi photos on their dates (which Niall ignored and scrolled down faster).

He decided at that moment to not promote his single for his First Tweet but take a photo of the massive bouncy castle.

 

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS THIS? pictwitter.com/afUnQI8T_

 

He chuckled to himself, wondering if it was a wise idea that that should have been his first tweet but. He was a different person than he was before, so yes, it was a good idea.

He was scrolling down his timeline and got insanely bored by it. He should probably follow some funny accounts… but later. He went to the search box and typed out ‘ZAYN.’

Zayn and he have not spoken since the mortifying experience in Bradford. Granted Zayn said he would text him, but really, waiting for more than a week to text back was making Niall anxious. What if he never texted him? What if he lied about keeping in touch? And there he was, an idiot, believing that—

The search results loaded and he busied with reading all the tweets.

_Zayn malik is the most overrated piece of shit._

_When he left 1D he should’ve stayed gone!_

_Isn’t Zayn interested in promoting his music… all he does is promote Gigi’s modelling career. And play PR for her favorite designers._

Niall snickered. He hundred per cent agreed, his thumb barely hovered on the Retweet sign.

He scrolled more and more tweets talking crap about Zayn, more and more, that he was reading nothing but hate under the ZAYN tag and he honestly wondered how Zayn could keep his head above it all. It was too much.

He locked his phone just to prevent his eyes from reading anymore, prevent from his blood boiling. Why was Zayn still being called out for leaving the band last year? For crying out loud, it has been more than a year, people should move on.

Everyone had gave him such a hard time for leaving back in March 2015 but right now, with his album out, making music videos, being active on Twitter, he was genuinely happy and at peace for doing his own thing and making his own “real” music.

(Niall still did not understand what Zayn meant by “real” music was).

Niall found it admirable. He could honestly applaud him for being brave for Zayn for realizing he was not happy with what he was doing with his life and had the courage to make the decision to change it and go after what he truly wanted to do. Granted, he was like those assholes calling Zayn out for leaving but. Niall was not that person anymore. No one ever told you that it was scary venturing out on your own, it took a lot of balls especially someone who was constantly in the public eye.

It just was not fair Zayn was getting shit for it.

Theo came running from the bouncy castle door, all smiles and laughs, and sure, she was right. He scooped him up in his arms asking how it was.

“Fun, fun, fun!” he cheered and then laid his head on his shoulder.

“Little tired, are we?” mumbled Niall. He hummed on his shoulder as his response. He bent down to pick his shoes and headed back to the Range. On his way he picked up bags of candy, photos of Theo with other kids while inside the bouncy castle, and a toy Batman phone.

“Gifts,” said the older man handing him the presents that children often received after their experience.

Theo snapped his head off the shoulder, Niall laughing at the fact that he heard the word ‘gifts’ and took the phone from his clutch. He let him stand on his two feet sans shoes as he played with his Batman phone as he put all the gifts into a lavender-colored bag.

“Thank you.”

“See you next Thursday,” smiled the older man and Niall smiled at him.

He took Theo’s hand to walk out of the theme park but Theo refused, mumbling he was busy calling Batman and Niall let him. Being the proper Uncle that he was, he always spoiled him, and often let Denise and Greg deal with making him unlearn all of the fun stuff he had with Uncle Niall.

Ice-cream was first on the menu. Theo practically run from him and plastered his nose and lips to the glass at the wide range of ice-cream flavors.

“Can we get chocolate?” asked Theo, fingers plastered to the glass as well with wide eyes.

“You only want chocolate?”

“I can have any flavour?” he asked, turning his head sideways to Niall who had crouched down to his level.

“Course, bub. Whatever flavour.”

“What are you having?” He asked him shyly. “Da always says I should have fruit ice-cream because it’s healthy.”

“Well Da isn’t here so you get to have whichever,” he said, adding a wink. Theo beamed up at him and went ahead to point to chocolate-velvet cake ice-cream to which they shared. And for take-away they took more of the same, and vanilla which he learned was his favourite. He got the rum ice-cream.

Sodas was not a good idea, health wise, but hey, when was he going to see Theo again? So at the supermarket, he perched Theo inside the shopping trolley and pushed it around as Theo pretended he was driving a race car with Batman by his side. He got the six-pack of 2L of Coke and Fanta Blackcurrant. When he saw Theo looking longingly at Ribena, he got that too, the six-pack and the glass bottle. Several more snacks, cookies, sweets, cakes, anything that he knew Denise would take out of the trolley without a second thought, he added.

Snickers factory was a short drive away from Niall’s house. It was really one of the reasons why he even bought his house in the first place. It amazed Niall how Theo was not yet tired and he had been active since morning. Or if 11 o’clock was considered morning.

“Ni!” shrieked Theo looking at rows and rows of Snickers. “Look!”

“I know, bub, sick, innit?”

Theo nodded and jogged ahead of him to look at the different types of Snickers all around. It was fast approaching 6 o’clock and he cannot believe he was the one feeling exhausted. But Theo was active, and running, and _oh boy_ , is this what Denise had warned him about when he told him not to give him too much sugar?

Nah. That was definitely not it. Hyperactivity ran in the Horan genes, not being overloaded with sugar. The drive back home was Theo opening one Snickers bar, tasting it, throwing it back in the back not before he handed Niall to taste, and opening another.

As soon as Theo’s body sat on the couch, he was out cold, sleep overtaking his body. He smiled fondly and had the urge to take a photo and sent it to both Greg and Denise. And Eleanor. And then his Ma.

He put the ice-creams in the fridge, the half-eaten Snickers bar he removed them out of their wrappers and placed them in plastic tin boxes and put them in the fridge. Sodas as well, though he left one out of each, including the Ribena.

Niall carried Theo off the couch careful not to wake him up and led him to his room. He took off his shoes, clothes and changed him into his Batman onesie Denise insisting it was his favourite and not the Hulk one. Sleeping so soundly under Niall’s covers, he let him not brush his teeth tonight.

He felt his heart grow large beneath his ribs as he watched Theo’s thumb disappearing between his lips, his chest moving up and down. He brushed his knuckles along his cheek.

“I love you Theo,” he said softly. “So much.”

He smiled fondly, feeling heat on the back of his eyes as he breathed in through his tiny, button nose. His hair was falling over his eyes and he pencilled on the back of his mind to take him for a haircut.

“Don’t grow up,” he said softly, his heart feeling heavy. “It’s a fu—trap. Da and Ma won’t protect you from every heartbreak; the world isn’t safe that way.” He swallows the thick glob stuck in his throat, his hand resting safely on top of his moving chest. “But I’ll be here, always. I’ll protect you from it all, well, from what I can, which should be almost everything. No one is going to lay a hand on you if I can’t help it.”

He pressed a kiss to his forehead, not trusting himself to start crying right there and then. So he turned off the lights and the ceiling has various shapes of glow-in-the-dark stick-ons. He did all that when he learned that Theo would be spending the week with him. As a precaution, he leaves the hallway light on. Denise and Greg were trying to lure him to sleep in the dark but Niall would often hear whimpers and he said _fuck it_ , if your child cried because of the dark, you turned on the fucking lights.

Forget the bullshit of _he’s too old_.

It was early for him – 9:48PM – so he opted of watching a few episodes of _Shameless_ on low volume so as not to wake Theo up. His phone vibrates on the couch, three episodes in and he picked it up not looking at the ID.

_Hello?_

“Hello?” he questioned, pressing Pause on the TV.

_It’s me Zayn._

“Zayn?” He pulled his pone away from his ear then back to his ear. “You got a new number.”

_Same as always, new phone. I tried asking for it on Twitter but you didn’t reply my DMs._

“Sorry about that,” he sheepishly said. “I’ve not exactly been active.”

_Except for today. Where were you with that huge bouncy castle?_

“Some place Greg takes Theo every Thursday.”

_You’re with your nephew?_

“For the whole week. I paid for my brother’s two-year anniversary to Mexico and I’ve been having too much fun with Theo I extended it for four more days. They honestly deserve it. Children are a hassle.”

Zayn chuckled through the phone.

“Where are you?” he asked, feeling like the conversation had hit a dead-end.

_I’m in London currently, trying to get everyone to listen to my album._

“Why? People will listen to your album nevertheless.”

_Thank you, Niall._

“And since when were you in London?” he asked, mock offended. “You didn’t say a word.”

_You were M.I.A. on everywhere. Had to ask Calder for your number. Oh, she says be more active on Twitter. I agree._

Niall rolled his eyes and chuckled despite himself. “Wanker. How long are you in London for?”

_A week, I can stretch it to two more days if I’m lucky. I have a performance for the Red Awards in Nebraska._

“The what Awards?”

_Ahahaha. I’ve never heard of that Award until today but apparently it’s huge. It’s more for upcoming artists or summat._

“Excited for it?”

_Yeah. Yeah I am._

“Are you free tomorrow?” he blurted out.

_Aren’t you minding Theo?_

“Tomorrow he has this sing-a-long thing,” said Niall. “So technically I’ll be free the whole day. Hey, I was a jerk to you and I have some serious friendship points to earn.”

 _Ahahaha. Suppose you do._ Pause. _Alright, sure. Um… call you later? Mum’s on the other line._

“Course.”

_See you tomorrow?_

“Yeah. Oh and Zayn?”

_Yeah…_

“I meant it when I said you don’t need all these promotions. Your album is off the hook, brilliant, and I can tell you put every thought into every line and it’s you. M’sorry you couldn’t do this when you were in the band.”

There was silence on the other end, and it stretched. Niall pulled away to check to see if Zayn accidentally hung up but nope, he was still on.

“Zayn?”

_You’re too good, Niall._

 

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

 

“I’m starting to think you eat nothing but gummy bears,” commented Niall as Zayn walked through his front door. He watched him toe off his black boots and sling his leather jacket off his shoulders. His hair grew but was still short yet soft and fluffy as it fell over his forehead.

“Shut up. I love them. Plus I bought you cookies.”

“Chocolate chip?” he perked up. He looked inside the bag and there, in all its glory, double chocolate chip cookies. “You’re precious! Does anyone ever tell you that?”

Zayn smiled in response. He does not know but his smile looked tired and now, blinking at Zayn as he sat on the stool by the kitchen counter, he looked exhausted, bags under his eyes, eyes looking like they wanted nothing but to shut themselves for hours on end.

“Have you eaten?” asked Niall and Zayn blinked at him.

“Something in the morning.”

“What time did you wake up?”

“Like seven-ish?” he stated, and came out like a question. “I was driving Safaa to boarding school – her first day – and as a goodbye sort of gift we went shopping for all sorts of snacks for her that I’m pretty sure are over right now.”

“Where’s boarding school?”

“A little over two hours from Bradford.”

Niall gawked. “That’s so far! And you drove back to London?”

“We were hanging out.”

“Zayn,” he said, reproachful.  “Should’ve slept at home then come later.”

“It’s fine.”

“Go to sleep.”

“What?” Zayn spluttered.

“Go to sleep.”

“No. We’re han—”

“Zayn, you’re exhausted from all that driving and I know you have a thing with driving and whatnot, but that was too much, even for you.” Zayn opened his mouth to protests but Niall beat him to it. “If you don’t then I’ll literally drag you to bed.”

He could see an internal conflict going on between his hypnotizing hazel eyes. Niall made it easier for him. He tugged on his wrist and Zayn did not protest, letting himself be pulled off the stool and towards Niall’s bedroom.

“Sleep.”

Zayn complied getting himself under the first cover and Niall could almost hear the happy sigh from his lips when his head hit the pillow.

“Call me after an hour?” he asked, eyes peeking through his long eyelashes.

“Sure,” he lied. He was going to let Zayn sleep through his exhaustion. Zayn shut his eyes, turning his head away from the sunny window. He stood there for a few moments, before deciding this was indeed creepy and walked off to the living room.

He did not know why but his blood began boiling just like yesterday when he was on Twitter reading all the hate directed towards Zayn. He clicked on the ‘Compose Tweet’ icon and the blinking cursor stared back at him.

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _Just want to clarify something before any of you get it twisted further. Or farther, don’t know what’s the right one…_

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _Zayn did what NONE of you could do, what MOST of you dream of doing._

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _You sit on your asses & do nothing about your situation yet he did and now you hate him for it?_

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _Stop picking at him for doing what he loves and if you have a problem with that maybe it’s the person in the mirror whO HAS AN ISSUE NOT HIM_

**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_He’s ONLY HUMAN AFTER ALL, STOP PUTTING THE BLAME ON HIM WHEN SOME OF IT IS YOURS!!_  
  


And he closed his Twitter app, feeling as if he would continue ranting, call out some names, @ certain people who were constantly on Zayn’s throat and probably Tweet something he would later regret, personal-wise or career-wise.

Seeing as Zayn was sleeping in the other room, Theo off on a sing-a-long, he was technically free. He took this time to work on the finishing touches to his next single, _Human_ , and he sent it to his Manager, tagging several other Capitol Records officials in the email and his A&R.

The hours rolled by in the afternoon and it was time to pick up Theo. Zayn was still asleep so he wrote a note stating he was picking up Theo (and dinner) and would be back soon. He went ahead, picked up Theo was half-sleepy but Niall was not one to be fooled because he knew as soon as he touched down back at home he would be an active Horan.

True to Niall’s initial thoughts, Theo lit up, became the über active nephew he was when Niall mentioned ice-cream and snickers in the fridge and pantry respectively. He went through about four before Niall had to stop him, not because he was going to spoil dinner, but because he would vomit all of it. A few weeks back, he ate six Snickers bars by himself and puked it all out, and Denise rushed him to the hospital. He did not hear what the doctors had said, but he vaguely understood it as too much sugar in his system.

Zayn was still asleep, the time nearing seven o’clock. Theo requested that they watch _TFiOS_ in front of the telly as they eat take-out, and Niall readily agreed. It was his second (the first being ANY Harry Potter movie) favourite movie so who was he to say no?

It was when he was serving Theo that Zayn sleepily walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Evening sleepyhead,” chuckled Niall eyeing him shuffle in. Theo looked up from his plate of warm food and simply stared. Then so did Zayn. They both stared at each other, not saying anything, and Niall found it absolutely comical. “Didn’t know we were all in a staring contest,” he remarked in between laughter.

As if on cue, Theo looked away, head stuck to his plate of food and Zayn looked to the far left where he could see the living room. His reverie was cut short with Niall poking a plate of food to his ribs.

“I’m not hu—”

“Food. Now,” Niall said and Zayn accepted it. “It’s halal so it’s safe.” Zayn smiled gratefully his way. “Now c’mon. Tonight is _The Fault in Our Stars_.”

Theo cheered from the living room. “TFOS.”

“ _TFiOS_ ,” corrected Niall walking in the living room, Zayn padding behind him.

“Your idea?” asked Zayn.

Niall turned, mock offended. “What’s that tone I hear? Disgust?”

“You bringing up your nephew the wrong way?”

“And what is the right way? Comic books? Art? Dumb, long eyelashes that never end?”

“Never end?” chuckled Zayn. “They do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too,” it was Theo’s words. Niall grinned at him, giving him an exaggerated high-five.

“You’re the man, Theo!”

And how Theo’s eyes lit up, like fireworks at Niall’s words, Zayn’s heart became just a tad warmer. And he conceded defeat by sitting down on the couch where trailers were playing before the actual movie began.

“You okay?” asked Niall.

Zayn blinked up from his plate of take-out. “Yeah. Why?”

“You sort of spaced.”

“M’good.”

“Stop talking,” Theo whined from Niall’s left. Niall mumbled an apology as he slid down the comfortable couch. Zayn leaned to Niall’s side, lips close to his ear.

“Do you watch this every fortnight too?”

Niall laughed but a low laugh so as not to upset Theo again. “Apart from Harry Potter, this is my second favourite movie.”

“Really?” he asked and he genuinely sounded surprised.

Niall nodded at him just as the movie began. He had forgotten his food at some point, Theo had fallen asleep not even beyond the 11th minute. He did not want to admit it but the movie was growing on him, when Augustus and Hazel met, when they talked of oblivion and the cigarette metaphor.

Zayn wanted to burst, words on the tip of his tongue. To scream that he did not let the cigarette win. He did not give the cigarette power by lighting it up and letting it kill him. But his words were extinguished inside of him because really, that is what the world was telling him. The world constantly said that he gave power to cigarettes to kill him. What they do not understand is that cigarettes were Home to him. Smoke was his comfort, his friend.

“Pause the movie, would you?” Niall drums through his thoughts. “I’m putting Theo to bed; don’t want him twisting his back on the sofa.”

Zayn nodded, pressing Pause on the movie as Niall walked back to his bedroom holding his nephew bridal style. Zayn got up and walked to the kitchen, wanting some of that ice-cream. He put all the dirty dishes in the sink, took out two charcoal-coloured bowls, and the whisky he had brought earlier.

He scooped several scoops of ice-cream – mainly vanilla – and poured whisky all over and added much more. He gnawed on his bottom lip when he realized he did not know Niall’s favourite ice-cream… at all. Not even a lame guess, he could not think of one.

In that moment Niall walked back into the kitchen. “Tucked him in—what are you making?”

“Just ice-cream and alcohol. I would’ve made one for you but then I realized I dunno your favourite ice-cream flavour,” he said, looking bashful at Niall.

“Aww Zayno,” cooed Niall, chuckles deep in his throat. “I like every flavour apart from strawberry.”

Zayn nodded. “Whisky?”

“Definitely.”

“And have you settled on ‘Zayno’?” asked Zayn as he scooped out red-colored (not strawberry) ice-cream from the tub.

“I’m still workshopping nicknames and they all seem to be falling flat.”

After he was done, they walked back to the living room and continued with watching _The Fault in Our Stars_. He found himself watching Niall more than the movie, especially the moments when Niall would stare wide-eyed at the TV as if watching the movie for the first time. He knew, _knew_ , that this was probably (definitely) Niall’s 3482nd time and he knew how the movie would end but here he was watching it like the very first time.

Niall brought his knees up, settling his almost done ice-cream bowl (his was still full) on his bare knees.

“I don’t think it was a dumb thing to choose your Cancer wish on Disney Land,” said Niall.

“What would your wish be if you, y’know, were in Hazel’s shoes?” inquired Zayn. His head was against the back of the couch, his neck angled in a way he could see Niall’s jawline. Niall, too, turned and ducked his chin to gaze at him.

“I.” And Niall felt his tongue as heavy as lead. Zayn look immensely good to look at right this second, his stretched neck, his fluffy black hair flopped over his forehead and his eyes bloody eyelashes peeking through his long, long eyelashes. He was looking at him earnestly, like whatever he says, whatever—

“Niall?”

 He sharply turned his head to his bowl of ice-cream. “Oh, sorry. Um. I would pray that it is a World Cup year and attended the Closing Ceremony.”

“Seriously?”

Niall nodded. “You?”

“I would visit the huge graffiti museum in Poland.”

“There’s a graffiti museum in Poland?” asked Niall, surprised. “That’s pretty cool. The museum thing, not the Wish.”

Their attention was turned back to the movie. Well, Zayn turned his attention to adding more whisky to his melting ice-cream and munched on it happily. Niall finished his ice-cream and set his bowl to one end of the couch and sunk further into the couch.

One part of his brain, the overconfident part, demanded him to scoot closer to Zayn, to lay his head on his shoulder, to—but the other part, the not-so-confident part, ordered him to not move, remain where he was. They were friends for crying out loud.

 _Friends lay close when watching movies_ , argued the Overconfident Part.

 _No they do not_ , the Not-So-Confident part disputed. Platonic friends keep a distance.

 _You snuggle close to Eleanor when you watch Harry Potter_ , claimed the Overconfident Part.

Eleanor’s your BFF, Zayn is your friend. Not even in the world of Friends is he your close friend. Or Good. He is a simple friend

His internal argument was cut short with jabs to his ribs from a long finger. He squirmed on the spot, trying to get away from the stabs.

“Stop poking me. I’m not Facebook.”

“You zoned out,” Zayn simply said. “And also, the date they are on is too much.”

Hazel and Augustus, characters from the movie, were on a romantic date somewhere in Amsterdam. Niall made a mental note to find out where it was and then beg Eleanor to post the restaurant on her _Where Are We Going, El?_ travel blog when they do go there together.

“Is not,” grumbled Niall.

“It is,” insisted Zayn as the characters clinked their flutes of champagne. “Apparently the champagne is so good they are tasting stars? And then who has ever thought of having trees in a restaurant? That a fire hazard!”

“But they have lights,” he whined gaily.

“Oh! Makes it worse because now it is a hundred per cent a fire hazard. So as they are enjoying their porridge looking—”

“—Risotto—”

“—Chef’s special they will burn to death.”

“You’re so morbid!”

“Realistic. This movie is too cheesy.”

Niall chuckled, Zayn feeling as if it was more of a private laugh. “It’s perfect.”

At the corner of his eye, Zayn saw Niall having that look again, the look that he wished he could float off the couch and found himself in the movie right this second. Like wanted to take Augustus’ place (or Hazel’s, it did not matter) and be the one eating the disgusting Chef’s special, be drinking champagne that was apparently stars, the hanging lights on the trees, have the cheesy jazz music playing… all of it. And, with a slap to the face, it hit him that Niall was a pure romantic at heart.

He longed for it, Zayn thought as he turned back to the movie where the date was over and they were walking down the streets of Amsterdam. He longed for the love that was on movie screens, longed for the wine-and-dine experience, not the hit-and-run or Netflix-and-chill. He wanted the pure kind of love and Zayn almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Instead Zayn took a short in the dark and cupped Niall’s hand with his. Niall’s brain short-circuited. What. The. Hell?! He told — demanded — his brain not to freak out. It was _just_ Zayn _just_ holding his hand watching his second favourite movie.

Not

A

Big

Deal.

Except with the fire burning bright beneath his ribs, it was. So he did not hear – how could he –  what the TV was narrating, did not hear Hazel and Co. going to Anne Frank’s house, did not hear about Zayn commenting how cool it would be to go there, he heard nothing because he warmth of Zayn’s hands and his arm pressing to his was _louder_. It would always be louder.

But Niall’s brain caught up and he was once more engaged to the movie.

“Monica’s such an ass! Who could be such an asshole! How do you dump someone because they become blind?” growled Niall.

“Least they are egging his ex’s car and house,” Zayn comforted Niall with that thought. “And imagine washing off the raw egg off your car and house?”

“S’not fair.”

Zayn laughed in response and Niall felt a heavy presence on his shoulder. His body tensed, then willed his body to _stop freakin’ out and be cool_ because whatthebloodyfuck Zayn has his head on his shoulder. He has Zayn on him. Specifically his skin and hair. And do not forget the hand-holding he is still internally fanning himself over.

 _Oh my days_ , he groaned internally. He was such a creep! He forced himself to concentrate on the movie, to concentrate on the night when Augustus and Hazel make love because then he would forget about the head on his shoulder, among other body parts.

 

**~ ~ * ~ ~**   
  


“What are some of your weird fetishes?” Niall asked.

As Niall directed Zayn which spare toothbrush to use (after much convincing that he would absolutely not drive home tonight) he went into his room to check on sleeping Theo. He had brushed his teeth and found Zayn slipping on his spare shirts.

“I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore how random you get,” said Zayn instead of replying. He scuffled under the covers of Eleanor’s bed, him choosing the side close to the window, and laid his head on the pillow with a happy sigh.

“Answer me!”

“I—I don’t know really. I wouldn’t call it a fetish,” said Zayn gazing at Niall where he is laying on a different pillow. “But seeing art pieces in a gallery.” Pause. “Think I’m answering you wrong.”

“Answer however you want.”

“What’s yours?”

“Teabags.”

Zayn laughed, the laugh that begins in the stomach and drives up. He turned, part of his laughter muffled into the pillow and Niall’s smile slowly grew, his teeth showing.

“Teabags?” he laughed the words out. “How are teabags a fetish?”

“For me.”

“I don’t think either of us have the right definition of a fetish.”

“Agreed.”

Zayn laughed until he calmed down, Niall taking the time to sneak glances his way. He removed the arm covering his eyes, placing it beneath his pillow, and for a moment seemed to only be gazing at the blond with blue eyes.

“How come you’re into all that lovely dovey shit?”

Niall rolled his eyes. “It’s not shit.”

“It’s your second favorite movie and I’m pretty sure you do watch it fortnightly, not unlike _Dope_ which you had never watched,” said Zayn pointedly and Niall laughed low so as not to wake Theo in the next room.

“I just like it.”

“But it’s different from, well, you.”

“What do you mean?” he asked and was starting to get anxious.

“Um. Well. During the year when I left the band, you were sort of, according to the tabloids, out and about.”

“Just say it, Zayn.”

“Don’t want to offend you.”

“Nothing you say will, unless you say that Ireland sucks then our friendship has a problem.”

“You were photographed partying with different girls every other night, rumors surfacing of you taking home one girl one night, another the other night, some several girls on one night…”

Which. Okay. He was _not_ that person. Not completely, anyway. Sure he had one-night stands, was moderately famous for it (fuck you very much, Ed Sheeran) and after a while he stop caring what the people wrote about him, or it. So he went on with it, embracing his new dangerous charm persona – and he loved it. Sex was just sex, he told himself. It was fun, a release, and without all the attachment of it all, he loved it. Like ordering everything off the menu and not having to pay for it.

Except, it became a _thing_ to him. He would sleep with the girl (or girls if he was up for a three some. Or foursome…) of the night, have an amazing time at her place (always _her_ place) and in the morning he would be out even before the sun shone through her window. See, Niall, despite popular belief, rarely opened up. He found it difficult. Sure, Niall was talkative, an open-book really but when it came to the deeper stuff, stuff that mattered, Niall instantly closed up, barely letting anyone in.

He reduced his one-night stands, distracting himself by accompanying Eleanor on her travel blog trips and it was a good distraction because he _stopped_ it all and he felt refreshed. Sex was great, sure, but it was better with the person you love. It was so much better because it became so much more about the other person, not just you, you, you.

“… sorry about that,” Niall heard the last part of Zayn’s words. Had he really zoned out? Again?

“Me and relationships are sort of. Like oil and water,” he said, struggling to find words. “I don’t mean that I don’t like them or anything. I think they don’t like me. I haven’t found the right person. Found my Hazel,” he added softly.

“Do you prefer that?”

Niall nodded against his pillow. “I long to get the feeling of being with someone who is my bestfriend, but more?” he began, stating it as a question. He lowered his eyelids, searching for the words to explain it to Zayn. Make him not think he was a sex addict. “Someone who knows me better than anyone else, and they make me a better person.

“Actually they don’t make me a better person because they _inspire_ me to be a better person. You always want to improve on yourself. Someone who accepted me, knew me, believed in me first when no one else would and in this day and age that is so bloody hard with people judging you right, left and centre.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Or when no one else would,” he added. “And because of all of this, you’ll always love this person, nothing, absolutely nothing under the sun, moon and stars, would change that. That’s why choosing to date someone, or even marry, is one of the hardest decisions you make in your life and people take it so, so lightly nowadays. So one-night stands worked for me, for a while.”

“Do you believe so?” Zayn asked, his voice as smooth as syrup to Niall’s ears, “that no matter what this person does, or says, you’ll always love them?”

Niall nodded. “Wholeheartedly do. Don’t you?” he asked when Zayn began (distractedly) chewing on his bottom lip.

“I think there are things that you do that will mess it up. And now you have to spend who knows how long making it up to them.”

“But if you apologized and they still guilt trip you, they aren’t worth it.”

Zayn suddenly moved, turning his head away from Niall to look at the ceiling, blinking several times at it. “Do you prefer to be with someone, though?”

“I find it easier _not_ to.”

“We all deserve someone,” said Zayn gravely, the side of his head pressed to the pillow. “We all deserve a love that consumes us… Alright, I can’t keep my eyes open any longer or else I’ll literally sleep in the middle of you talking.”

Niall laughed but it was a half-laugh. He was still stuck on Zayn’s words: _A love that consumes us_. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

He may be high from the whisky in his ice-cream, or the bubblegum flavoured toothpaste he accidentally swallowed or from Zayn’s presence, but he swore Zayn slid closer to him in bed.

“Close your eyes,” said Zayn and he most definitely was not high because his voice was so, so close to his hearing range. He stretched his hand above the bed and turned off the switch. The corridor light shone into the room but thanks to the thick curtains and the almost-closed door, the room was not too bright.

He heard shuffling, the space near his bed dipping before lips were pressed to his forehead.

“Night, Niall.”

Niall did not sleep for hours after.

 

 **~ ~ * ~ ~**  


**ZIALL UPDATES @ZiallHorlik** _  
@zaynmalik ARE YOU AND NIALL FRIENDS AGAIN?_

**Larry feels @larryfanart** _  
@zaynmalik Are you talking to him again?_

**VOTE FOR RED AWARDS @LipstickZayn** _  
@zaynmalik Please tell niall to get Instagram! PLEASE! WE ACTUALLY MISS HIS GOLF AND KNEE UPDATES_

**ZAYN @zaynmalik  
** _“@LipstickZayn Please tell niall to get Instagram! PLEASE! WE ACTUALLY MISS HIS GOLF AND KNEE UPDATES” @NiallJHoran_

There were several more tweets, most of them asking if him and Niall were friends. So one sunny hour in the afternoon, Zayn did it. He became cheesy.

**zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@NiallJHoran Okay?_

And if this tweet did not make Niall’s cheeks hurt and burn from grinning and beaming so much for hours into the evening, he did not know what did.

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@zaynmalik Okay._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ZAYN WON TOP ARTIST @ BBMAs WHOOP WHOOP!!! FINALLY 5/5 HAVE RELEASED MUSIC, LIAM FINNA JOININ THE REST (BOUT TIME TOO).... now for the albums from 3/5 [;
> 
> till next time !


	11. A Jar of Nutella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool premieres in London.

 

> **I can’t keep you from harm**  
>  **But I’m set on fire to keep you warm**  
>  **What would I do?**  
>  **What wouldn’t I do to save you ?**  
>  **~The Chainsmokers ft XYLØ**

 

“You’re alive!”

Niall rolled his eyes. Liam keeled over, hand on his knees, his back moving up and down and heaving in air into his lungs.

“Why were you running?” questioned Niall.

“I think a fan spotted me so I was avoiding him,” muttered Liam breathlessly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

Niall hesitated but stepped away so that Liam could walk into his house and he closed the door. “Beer?” he asked him and Liam shook his head, asking for water instead. “Are you on some non-beer phase?”

“You had one last year.”

“My doctor advised me not to,” said Niall pointedly.

Liam followed Niall wordlessly to his backyard. He recognized Eleanor, the rest of the bodies hanging out and inside the pool, not so much. In fact none of them looked familiar at all though they all seemed to have black hair.

“Barbecue?” inquired Liam.

“Mhmm. Thought I’d break out my new BBQ set,” grinned Niall. The both of them sat down, Liam clutching his glass of water tightly, grateful he had something to do with his hands. “What brings you round?”

“You.” His eyes gazed over to the people in the pool playing what looks like a round of volleyball. “You were silent for a while. You quit Twitter, IG, all social media, WhatsApp too, changed your number… The—no one knew where you were—”

“Eleanor did,” interjected Niall.

Liam breaks his eyes from the pool to Niall. “There was no word about you for weeks and it worried everyone, Niall.”

“I was becoming someone I was not proud of. Someone that wasn’t me.”

“It’s because you’ve been friends with Zayn he’s started chan—”

“If you say anything negative about him, Liam Payne, I am going to throw you out of my house. And I’m not joking.”

The ice in Niall’s voice made him believe his words immediately. He set his glass of water on the table near his leg. “I—I’m sorry that it’s taken me this long to come and see you. But I truly was worried, Niall, because you changed your number and before that your phone was permanently off.”

“I broke my SIM card in half.”

Liam frowned at him. “Why?”

“Like I said, I didn’t like who I was becoming.”

“I thought, just for a split second, that we weren’t friends.”

“Why?” Now Niall was genuinely surprised.

“Because the last thing you said to me – rather us – was three-out-of-three one direction and—and that was scary to think about. Losing Zayn was hard enough, can’t lose you as well.”

“You have a shitty way of showing it.”

“I know and I’m really, really sorry. Sorry that I took sides, sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed any one of us—”

“I had Eleanor.”

“And Zayn.”

Niall shook his head before chugging down his Guinness. “We weren’t talking because the three of you, and Perrie and her shit band, were taunting Zayn and you al—”

“You told us you did it because you wanted publicity on your song.”

“I lied!”

“Why?”

“Because the shit I’d have gone through if I told you that I wanted to be his friend would’ve been a hell of a headache!”

“We wou—It would be just Louis.”

“And Harry because little shit follows him like a lost puppy. And you who wants his approval so badly so really, none of you would back me up so I lied.” Liam opened his mouth to protest but Niall rolled on. “And like that wasn’t enough of a reason, if I did say why I followed Zayn all three of you would call me a liar and ask what I really wanted. Not forget calling me a traitor.”

“I would never call—”

Niall held up his palm. “Just stop, Liam. I’m over it.”

“Okay, fine, I was a jerk. We both agree? But I realized that I can’t lose you as a friend as well.”

“You haven’t lost Zayn as a friend.”

“I feel like I have,” Liam said, resigning into himself. “Whatever bridges to be built can never be built.”

“I built mine by not being an ass to him.”

“Niall, I’m here to be your friend—”

“But being shitty to Zayn at the same time? Know what Liam, you can take your double standard friendship and keep it.”

Liam ran his fingers through his Mohawk. This was not how he had hoped _this_ to go. It was literally going South. “I’m not going to be shitty to Zayn, clearly he means a lot to you now and if being mean to him makes me lose you then it’s not worth it.”

“That doesn’t sound nice at all, Liam. You’re so—”

Liam leaned forward in his metal chair. “I want to be your friend Niall and I’m willing to do anything to be in your life. To be the few whom you care about and… and I miss the way you tickle me.”

Niall’s left corner of his lip tugged upward. “I did miss your shrieks.”

“I do not shriek,” says Liam indignantly. “But I don’t want to continue like this, you on the other side all because of your choices. You like your choices so I should respect them, and I am starting to. Please forgive me for being a jerk.”

“I did,” said Niall and gives him a lopsided smile.

Liam sputtered. “When?”

“When you rang the doorbell. You literally hate confrontations so when you do get your head out of your ass it takes a while.”

“Thank you.”

Niall suddenly leaned forward, his demeanor back to ice cold. “One mean thing about Zayn, to Zayn, or concerning Zayn, and you’re out of my life for good.”

All Liam could do was nod. He went home feeling accomplished. While he did not understand why Niall was friends with the fucktard, he could not lose Niall. Like he had said, Niall’s tickles were the best, plus Niall was one of those friends that somehow turned into what you needed: a shoulder to cry on, an impromptu tux shopping friend, a write songs together in the A.M., a drinking buddy, help set up the pool table in the basement of your house… he was everything in a friend.

Niall always gave, was the thing. He never stopped giving all of him, to everyone really, and honestly, if Niall did not give you his time, his love, care, advice, or share his laughter with you, you must have done something to tick him off.

**~  ~  *  ~  ~**

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson so what, now that U and the love of your life are together U forget bout the rest of us?_

He had the right to be mad.

For weeks none of the boys had contacted him. Granted, he disappeared off the face of the world but wouldn’t friends look everywhere for their friend? Even if said person literally slammed the door in their friend’s face, the least they can do was come looking for said person?

Not Harry.

Not Louis.

Not Liam. Well, until three days ago when he came to his BBQ party.

None of the three had looked for him, not once. No call, no Tweet, no photos, no DMs. Hell, he was sure as hell Harry had his Ma’s number because, well, it was Harry therefore it should be no surprise. What was a surprise was that he never called his Ma to find if Niall was alright. Nor did Louis. Or Liam who lived less than a 20-minute drive from his house.

He waited for Harry’s reply, and none forthcoming. His RTs for the tweet were increasing, his follower count now at a staggering 13.3 million followers. He decided to follow several fans as he awaited a response.

He then headed for his DMs seeing as, what was now heading for half an hour, Harry had not replied. See, contrary to popular belief that Harry came online once a month, or in a blue moon, was a lie. He was always online, lurking, scrolling, spying… Harry was always online.

 **zayn:** Morning from FLORIDA! (:

 **zayn:** It is SPRING!!

 **Nialler:** It’s been spring for a while buddy AHAHAH

 **zayn:** Shut up Niall.

 **Nialler:** What are U doing in FL ?

 **zayn:** Promoting my album (:

 **Nialler:** But U were in Boston yesterday ! How are U in a new state already ?

 **Nialler:** Aren’t U exhausted?

 **zayn:** Oh defo! I feel like I am going to collapse any minute now. Plus, I want to promote shamelessly this week so next week I sleep the week away.

 **Nialler:** Where are U headed for promotion?

 **zayn:** A bunch of radio stations, some of them SiriusXM, YellowPost, Schuba Awards. Then I have three photoshoots: Fader, GQ, and Teen Vogue

 **zayn:** My ELLE photoshoot is coming out in May (:

 **Nialler:** Will definitely buy it.

 **zayn:** ARE YOU ALRIGHT?

 **Nialler:** Why all CAPS?

 **zayn:** Sorry. Are you alright?

 **Nialler:** Great. Why?

 **zayn:** Your tweet to Harry. And his reply..

Niall headed straight to his Timeline, did not see Harry’s reply, then headed to Harry’s Twitter page where he saw the Tweet to him, already retweeted by Louis.

 

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran You’re the one that dropped off the face of the earth._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson & then? U didn’t even bother looking for me._

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran You CHANGED your number. DELETED all your social media accounts. And generally when people disappear they want to be left alone._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson I call BULLSHIT! & U know it !_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran NIALL, you know I’d never leave you alone, you know that._

 **Niall @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson U COULD’VE VISITED ME! Just say U were busy fucking @Louis_Tomlinson to bother with your friends._

 **Niall @NiallJHoran**  
_@HarryStylinson U know days ago Liam came over? And apologized for being a dick? Where were you?_  


Louis was now online as it was him who replied and not Harry. He could bet all his net worth – a staggering $81M – that Harry and Louis were together at this moment.   Meanwhile, on ‘Twitterspace’, there was a trend already about Harry and Niall while fans were stuck in the middle, not knowing whose side to pick.  


**Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran Stop whining about your pathetic life. We dont always have to keep in touch 24/7. If you werent well, we’d have been there for you._

 **Niall @NiallJHoran  
** _@Louis_Tomlinson FUCK OFF LOUIS! I was not “whining” I was going through a lot. I did not like who I was becoming and needed time off, and what, in those +2 months not a word from either of you ???_

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson**  
_@NiallJHoran We’re busy now, Niall. I have a baby, Harry is working on a new movie project, Liam is playing for CFC, so we have no time to check on each other like BABIES_  


And no. Niall was absolutely not going to look at the fact that Louis did not mention what he was doing with his life. He was absolutely not going to let it bother him. He had apparently taken too long to reply, what with not letting it bother him and all that, as Liam and Louis were both online now.  


**LIAM** **@LiamPayneCFC** **  
** _@Louis_Stylinson @HarryStylinson @NiallJHoran Can we not do this online?_

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson** **  
** _@LiamPayneCFC_ _Because Nialler over here decided not to give us his real number.. this is the only place we can reach him_

 **LIAM** **@LiamPayneCFC** **  
** _@Louis_Stylinson There are DMs for that._

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson** **  
** _@LiamPayneCFC_ _Don’t go DEFENDING HIM LIAM! Niall left US. He literally left us at the Billboard Awards for ZAYN and that was the last we’ve seen of him_

It was here where at this juncture, if they were not already, the ZQUAD were involved in the spat between the boys. And now Zayn was dragged in. As for the ZQUAD, they were supporting Zayn as this drama began at the Billboard Awards, and on the other hand had, Directioners were split in on themselves, some on Niall’s side, others on Louis and Harry’s sides. There were those, like Liam and Liam stans, who simply wanted all of them to get along. If it was all 4/4 or 5/5, no one would ever know.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@Louis__ _Stylinson@HarryStylinson_ _Unlike both of U, Liam got off his ass and came to see me. BECAUSE HE KNOWS WHERE I LIVE! I DIDN’T CHANGE MY ADDRESS !!_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@HarryStylinson_ _The one person who has always been there for U, no matter what, needed U & U weren’t there._  


Just like Liam had said, and thought, and knew to be true, Niall was always there for every single of them. Well, Niall was always there for people he cared about. Forget Harry, Niall was nicer, compassionate and when he left, one was in a better place than when he found you. He was a true friend, a brother who was a shelter to all, the one to call when you felt low. He was a fortress to the people he loved, loving them until they were their own fortresses.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson_ _Doesn’t fuckin matter anymore, anyway, because during those hard weeks of my life I had people who TRULY cared for me and really, that is all I’ll ever need !_

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson** **  
** _@HarryStylinson_ _Does that NOT include us now? It’s all about ZAYN?_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
**_@Louis_Tomlinson He’s a MUCH better person than you’ll ever be_ !

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson**  
_@NiallJHoran_ “ _@ NiallJHoran: @zaynmalik Okay.”_ _This gay shit is better than us ?_  


And if he was not angry before, he was now! He went to his DMs, made a group comprising of Harry, Liam, and Louis and vented.

 **Nialler:** WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS UR PROBLEM LOUIS?

 **Nialler:** IF YOU DON’T LIKE ZAYN NO NEED TO KEEP DRAGGING HIM ONTO WHATEVER YOU ARE ANGRY ABOUT with ME !

 **Nialler:** THERE ARE SO MANY, MANY TIMES WHEN I SHOULD’VE BEEN LIKE “FUCK IT” & REMOVED U OUT OF MY LIFE BUT I DIDN’T.

 **Nialler:** HARRY SAID U WERE A GOOD PERSON.

 **Harry Styles.:** He is. I promise, Niall.

 **Nialler:** LIAM SAID DEEP DOWN YOU WERE A GOOD PERSON.

 **Nialler:** & I BELIEVED IT. DESPITE THE EVENTS THAT HAVE HAPEPEND IN THE LAST 2, 3 YEARS.

 **LIAM:** It’s All In The Past Now, Nialler

 **Nialler:** THE FINAL STRAW SHOULD’VE BEEN EL’S ABORTION BUT NO! I DEFENDED U TO HER, SAYING U WERE GOING THROUGH A LOT… SUCH FUCKIN BULLSHIT I SPIT THAT HONESTLY IDK WHAT THE ACTUAL

 **Nialler:** FUCKIN I WAS THINIKNG BECAUSE IT WAS total BS!!!

 **Nialler:** I SHOULD’VE STOPPED CARING FOR U! I SHOULD’VE STOPPED TALKING 2 U! STOPPED CARING! BUT I DIDN’T.

 **Harry Styles.:** Niall. Stop!

 **Nialler:** & U KNOW WHY?

 **Nialler:** I HONESTLY THOUGHT YOU’D CHANGE.

 **Nialler:** I HOPED THE GOOD FOR YOU. I HONESTLY HONESTLY *HONESTLY* DID & I’M STARTING TO SEE THAT SOME PEOPLE NEVER CHANGE.

 **Harry Styles.:** That’s not true. People do change for the better.

 **Nialler:** THAT IS WHO THEY ARE.

 **Nialler:** & I THINK I’M DONE.

 **Louis Tomlinson** **:** Do you think I care? You stopped mattering to me the moment you lied about following Zayn back in January

 **Harry Styles.:** NIALL! TAKE IT BACK!

 **LIAM:** Don’t Make Decisions When You’re Mad!!

 **Nialler:** Fine. Watch me not raise a finger, a voice, a hand WHATEVER to help you.

 **LIAM:** BOTH OF YOU STOP IT! STOP ACTING LIKE CHIDLREN!

 **LIAM:** *CHILDREN

 **Harry Styles.:** We always got through every fight, every spat

 **_Harry Styles._ ** **_is typing…_**

**_Nialler has been deleted from the group by Louis Tomlinson._ **

**LIAM:** Louis! WTF? Why Did You Delete Him?

 **Louis Tomlinson** **:** As far as I’m concerned Liam, you’re heading in the same direction as Niall

**_Louis Tomlinson has left the group._ **

**LIAM:** LOUIS!

 **LIAM:** HARRY! What’s going on? Where is Louis???

 **Harry Styles.:** I don’t know. But shit. This isn’t good.

 **LIAM:** Aren’t You With Him?

 **Harry Styles.:** No. I’m heading for a meeting at Universal Studios and Louis is at Briana’s. But I’ll talk to him tonight.

 **LIAM:** Please Do. We Can’t Be Splitting Up.

 **Harry Styles.:** This is all Zayn’s fault.

 **LIAM:** Shit, They’ve Both Tweeted.

 

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
** _Down to 3/3_

… and Niall:

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I'm only human I do what I can,_  
Don't put the blame on me  


**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

Zayn came running out of his house, putting his hand through his jumper, carrying his boots in the other hand, towards Niall’s Range.

“What’s the emergency?” he panted before him and got the time to finish dressing. Taking him in, Niall felt a little guilty for making it seem like it was a bigger thing that what it really was.

“We’re going to watch a movie.”

Zayn stilled with one leg about to enter his black boot. He stood up slowly, frowning strongly at Niall leaning against his grey car. “What are you talking about? You said I had to rush out because your knee was acting up again.”

“Oh it was, that part is true, but I just put my ointment and got better.”

“So why did you sound like you were in pain on the phone?” groaned Zayn, back to wearing his boots. Niall’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink at watching his jet-black hair flop down and swing with each movement he made to wear his boots. He wanted to reach out, run his fingers through it… for science. Honest. A science experiment to see if his hair was really fluffy or a false advertisement.

 _But nothing about Zayn is false_ , his inner self whispered back.

“It’s called acting, you wanker. I thought you loved Drama back in high school?”

Zayn was now standing, finished dressing, and rolled his eyes at him. “What exactly are we doing?”

“I told you. We’re watching a movie.”

“You got me outside the house to watch a movie?” he asked, incredulously. “We can do that back there,” he said, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. “If I don’t have the movie you want, I will download it, and we’ll watch it.”

Niall was shaking his head as he was speaking. “It’s not like that. This is a proper movie. Cinema theatres, popcorns, and all that. And gummy bears,” he added quickly.

“Do I have to? Today was meant to be a sleep day for me.”

And Niall felt a pang of guilty which he swallowed down. “I promise after you’ll sleep. Just 2, 3 hours tops. If it goes longer, I’ll stop whatever, and drive back home. Deal?”

“Deal.”

During the drive to the venue that Niall still had not said a word of, Zayn kept poking, whining, groaning at Niall to tell him, even a bloody hint would do, to which Niall said he gave him way too many hints already if he did not have it figured out by now Zayn was dumb. To which Zayn promptly flicked his temple.

They arrived at the cinema where it seemed to be packed, for some reason, but that did not deter either of them. They were stopped by a few fans, most of them wanting to know about the whole Twitter fight between him and Louis to which he promptly ignored them. They got through the doors and went straight to where they sold tickets.

“What are we watching?” asked Zayn, looking at the movie showings for the day. Niall stole a glance, his hand pretending to be picking up a flyer for the cinema, and saw Zayn roam his eyes at all the movies showing. He stopped on one, and asked: “Isn’t that the movie you were telling me about that you wrote a soundtrack for?”

“ _Lion_?” inquired Niall and Zayn nodded. “Yeah I did. It was a collabo with Sia though. Amazing singer. Great film, too.”

“What’s it about?”

“An Indian boy who gets adopted by an Australian couple after getting lost kilometres from home and, 25 years later, he goes back to look for his family in India.”

“Sick!”

“It was. Me and Sia watched it and swear we were crying at the end.”

“Best friends, aren’t ya?” Zayn smirked.

Niall rolled his eyes, a smile tugging the corner of his lips upward. Zayn turned his attention back to the screens above. From the corner of his eye, he tried to decipher what Zayn kept darting his eyes back to. Either it was _Deadpool_ or _Pitch Perfect 2_. If he was being honest, both movies screamed ‘ZAYN’ so he really did not know if this plan was working or not.

“Hey,” Zayn called him out. “Aren’t we meant to be lining up?”

Niall shook his head. “Not part of the plan.”

“Thought we were watching a movie?”

“We are.”

“… so why aren’t we lining up?”

“Because we’re not watching it like commoners.”

Zayn snorted. “Commoners? What are you, William Petty?”

Niall gawked at him. “You—you know!” He could not utter the words because his whole body was shook with surprise: Zayn knew who William Petty was. “How did you—did you finally Google who he is?”

“Why are we not lining up Niall?” asked Zayn, choosing to ignore his bubbliness.

“You know who the second Earl of Shelburne is?”

“Forget it! I’m lining up or else we’ll be here until six.” Zayn turned to walk and stand at the back of the queue when Niall held his wrist, tugging him back. “Are you going to tell me why the bloody hell we’re not lining up?”

“You Googled him?” he asked and Zayn bluntly rolled his eyes for longer than normal. He does not know why he was insisting on asking Zayn how he knew William Petty but he did. The first time he mentioned his name he received a blank look and now Zayn was dropping his name into their conversation like it was a common fact (Niall argued that it should be a common fact of knowing who William Petty is)(He is a legend, after all).

“Yes, Niall, I Googled William Petty, the second Earl of Shelburne, and learned he was the first Irish Prime Minister of UK,” he said, deadpan, a large contrast to Niall jogging on the spot with delight. “Now will you tell me why we aren’t lining up to buy tickets? Speaking of, what are we even watching?”

“It’s a surprise. And we aren’t lining up because we’re not buying tickets.” Zayn quirked an eyebrow at him, a million questions in the air. His questions hit a blank invisible wall created by Niall when he turned away from him to call out: “Bressie!”

The said person emerged from somewhere over the counter, Zayn wondering if he had been there the whole time, and laughed, for some reason. Niall joined in, laughing, till people were giving them curious looks – and not just because he was _Niall Horan_.

“It’s all set-up and everything,” said Bressie to Niall, “and you owe me. Took me bloody _long_ time to get—“

“Sssh!” hissed Niall. “He doesn’t know.”

Bressie’s eyes shifted from Niall to behind him where Zayn was standing, hands shoved in his pocket and suddenly craving a smoke. Or three.

“Isn’t that… Zayn Malik?”

“You’re such a loser, Bressie!” grunted Niall but he was laughing at his mate’s star struck face. “Keys, please.”

He handed them over. “I don’t want cum stains on the walls or floor.”

“Shut _up_!” Niall hissed, his cheeks red and neck feeling like it was being choked by his plaid shirt. He honestly hoped Zayn’s ears were pre-occupied by the two girls gossip beside him about the bitch in their Spanish class.

“If you’re caught, you didn’t get the keys from me.”

“You’re a dear!”

“Course I am.”

They were making their way down corridor, then up the stairs, then more stairs, and down a corridor. Niall was leading the way, the key warm and wet between his fingers he wished upon stars and fairy godmothers to make him a cold-blooded human. The first of his kind to—

“Where are going?” asked Zayn interrupting his thoughts.

“You’ll see. We just have make sure that the manager doesn’t spot us,” cautioned Niall.

“Niall are we not supposed to be doing—whatever it is we’re doing?” he hissed.

Niall sent a naughty smile over his shoulder to him and stuck out his hand just because. Zayn looked at it for a while, Niall having a one, two second panic attack, before Zayn clasped his hand with his.

The kept walking, Niall chanting _we’re holding hands_ in his head he had made a song about it, formed a marching band and an acoustic. They did not walk for that long before Niall was jamming the key through a grilled, black door that had “DANGER!” written on it. Zayn did not get a word out before he was shoved through the door into the darkness… and the floor.

The lights came on and he saw Niall suppressing a laugh behind his hand, the other still on the switch. “Classic. Works every time.”

Zayn rolled his eyes as he got up. “Such a prick.”

Niall led him towards another door, no funny signs on it apart from ‘NO AUTHORIZED ACCESS’ which he thought was better than ‘DANGER.’ “Through this door is the surprise.”

“Here I thought you making me walk around _was_ the surprise.”

Niall laughed despite himself. He blamed it on the nerves. “You go in first.”

“And what, fall on my ass? Again?”

Niall rolled his eyes, half-heartedly, yet he unlocked the door, turned on the lights for Zayn’s benefit and stepped aside for him to walk through.

Zayn’s eyes grew wide the more he walked inside the tiny window-less room, and somewhere in the back of his mind heard Niall lock the door. He did not know what the name for the room was but it was the backstage room where the film is usually kept in a cinema theatre. They were in the small room where the _actual film_ was. His eyes scanned the room and falling to the floor where they were snacks – boxes of popcorn, sodas, and of course gummy bears – and… and was that a kitten? In a cage?

“What the actual fuck is that Niall?” he mumbled, still floored by it all.

“It’s a kitten.”

“Wh-what’s going on, Niall?” he asked, barely breathing, his eyes not sure where to look at, whether the food, the film, the kitten sleep in its cage, the small opening where he could see the actual cinema hall, or at Niall.

“Well,” he began, ducking his head down, “I was a jerk to you, and I wanted to make it up to you. I might have stalked your Twitter feed, and called Hadiyya, and learned you were looking forward to watching _Deadpool_ when it came out.”

“It doesn’t come out until the 26th.”

“I know but this is London, where things happen fast and the movie premiered today,” said Niall. “So I called Bressie up, seeing as he works here, and I told him what to do, and everything, and he did.”

“And the kitten?” he breathed.

“You basically put a stopper on your dream on being a veterinarian and, even worse, when you had to sell all your pets and for some reason you don’t have one… So I thought why not get you a kitten? I would’ve gotten a dog but I hate dogs, personally. Or a fish, which would’ve probably died by being in the dark, I don’t know, or a parrot but that would raise suspicion with the people who are watching the mo—”

“Niall.”

“Huh?”

“Breath.”

Niall gasped out, not knowing he had basically rapped through his sentence and his cheeks were hot, hot under his pale, Irish skin.

“I hope you like it.”

“Like it?” he asked then laughed his eyes taking in everything again. “This is incredible,” he said, his voice going soft and doing something to Niall’s heart making it feel like a fluffy, lavender cloud. “I love it, Niall. It’s perfect.”

A wave of relief washed over him and he did not know how much he was counting on knowing he got it right. “You like it?”

“We could be watching _The Notebook_ and it would all be perfect.” Pause. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Niall laughed in response as he sat himself down.

“Can I see the kitten?”

“Knock yourself out. It’s sleeping though. Bressie said it was awake but just check on it to make sure it’s not dead.”

Zayn checked up on the kitten, opening the door of the cage, and using his index finger he smoothed it down the back of the kitten. Niall watched the whole moment, and again when Zayn did it, and he could feel something shift inside of him; something like Zayn reaching deep inside himself, his past self where he sold his pets, sold every single one, and telling him that he should not worry about selling all his beloved pets because he would get another in the future.

“Can I remove the kitten from the cage?”

“Knock yourself out. And are you going to keep calling it ‘the kitten’?”

“Gender?”

“Bressie said it was female.”

“You don’t know?” asked Zayn, surprise in his voice. He sat back near Zayn, the sleeping kitten out of its cage and by Zayn’s feet. “You bought the kitten.”

“ _Please_ give it a name.”

“I need to think of a name can’t give the kitten _any_ name.”

Niall rolled his eyes and decided it was time to eat his popcorn. “I bought plain popcorn, not knowing what you like, so I got flavors to add.”

“I’m allergic to popcorn.”

Niall barked out a laugh. “What the fudge?”

“Did you just say _fudge_?” asked Zayn, deadpan.

“How are you allergic to popcorn? Know what, good news to me because it’s all for me.”

Zayn lightly shook his head. He leaned back to the carpeted wall behind them as he opened the bag of gummy bears and to sounds of Niall squirting chocolate all over his plain popcorn. The movie began shortly thereafter and Zayn stilled, gummy bears in the air. He reached out and squeezed Niall’s wrist, not trusting his voice to squeal like an 8-year old over _Deadpool_.

Niall turned, a grin already on his lips, and laughed softly at Zayn, and turned back to the front where the beginning of the movie was showing. He felt warm breath on his chin before lips were pressed to his jaw, just below his earlobe. He willed his body not to tense like a brick wall, and not let his mouth drool, and then the lips were gone.

 

“Best movie in the world!” gushed Zayn when the final credits rolled by. In the cinema theatre, people were getting up to leave but because Niall had talked to Bressie, organized for him to stay as long as he liked (“Not past _six_ , Ni!”), they did not attempt to move.

“Glad you liked it.”

“Liked? I _loved_ it. Everything. The food, drinks, animal, this,” he made a vague, circular gesture with his finger in the tiny room, “it’s all good. You’re too good, Niall.”

“This is too sappy for someone who has just watched Action not Romance,” said Niall not wanting his cheeks to burn further from blushing.

“Shut up!” Zayn murmured as he took out his phone, taking a snap of the remains of their drinks and food (or just drinks as Niall gobbled three large buckets of popcorn and Zayn finish the pack of gummy bears, only eating the red ones).

“How’s your family doing?” he asked and his inner self smacked him in the back of his head. _How’s your family doing?_ Of all the questions he could’ve asked, or should’ve, he chose that one?

“They’re good.”

“Hope your mom likes the new carpet,” he told him.

Zayn chuckled under his breath, eyes on the kitten on his lap. “Yeah she did. She likes you now because of that. Oh! And Hadiyya asked for your number, in case some anonymous person clouds your WhatsApp with music videos.”

“Music videos?”

Zayn nodded. “She’s always sending everyone a song she thinks you’ll love, or is super cool. Don’t get your hopes up, some of the songs are mostly from the 90s.”

“Michael Jackson was pretty cool.”

Zayn smirked at him, eyes off the kitten for once. “Trust me, I’m still waiting for a MJ song but.” He shrugs. “How’s your family?”

“Great. Greg’s starting on a new case involving contracts between Samsung and Huawei, something about using the same LED screen. The exact one and now is only when they are noticing.”

“Isn’t it too late?”

“It is,” responded Niall, smiling. “But that’s Greg for you, trying to find a loophole when there literally isn’t none. Ma told him so but he’s sticking to his guns.”

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s great. Always worrying about me,” he said, his tone fond and a little irritated. She was always worrying, he kept telling anyone who’d listen, and anyone who’d listen, would say she had a right to worry.

“With good reason, or else she wouldn’t be a mom,” said Zayn, his hand absentmindedly petting the sleeping kitten on his lap.

“She’s dating someone. New.”

“You okay with that?”

“I don’t know.” He frowned sightlessly before him. “She’s happy than she’s ever been in years. She’s having her tea parties once again, she goes out of the house more, she’s taking care of herself, doing this and that, and she laughs more. I didn’t think I’d miss my Ma’s laugh, or if I’d ever hear it again.”

“But… what is it? What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats, quieter. Zayn, too remains silent, letting him be. “For a long time I thought that it was my fault that people left. My fault my girlfriend cheated on me, my fault my father left, my fault the friends I had in Mullingar don’t talk to me anymore, my fault… that One Direction broke up —”

“—That wasn’t your fault.”

“—but even if that isn’t true, people still leave. I get the feeling that Chris might leave,” he said, talking of his Ma’s new boyfriend, Chris Gallagher. “El says it’s dumb because he’s not an ass like my Da–Bobby but what if he does? And then my Ma goes back to her ol’ self where she barely leaves the house? Always missing company what with no one in the house anymore?”

“What do you mean? She lives alone?”

“Yeah. Greg married, I moved to London, Bobby left, so she was alone. Grandma is in retirement home, Grandpa is dead—” His sentence was punctuated by Zayn shoving him.

“You idiot! Don’t you see why your Ma is worried?” asked Zayn and Niall remained mum, which was odd to Zayn because Niall is rarely silent.

“I feel like if,” he managed to say, voice watery, “what if Grandma goes, who will she have left? What if Chris becomes a jerk and she’ll be all alone in that house again?”

Zayn laid the kitten on the carpet floor, shifting close to Niall, taking his head and laying it on his shoulder. He dips his fingers into Niall’s fading blond hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

“So this is one of the reasons you’re always living in your head, huh?” he asked, not needing a reply. Nial laughed, not humour-filled, on his shoulder.

“Tell me something to distract myself, I’ve been having a horrible month,” said Niall.

Zayn did not have to rehash what went down with the members of One Direction two weeks ago on Twitter. If he thought he left a storm in March 2015, then he was wrong. He started the storm, and it was still continuing.

“I’ve been trying to think of what to give Gigi,” – Niall refrained from groaning out loud but he did roll his eyes – “for her birthday. I didn’t want to give her what most people would give her, what companies would give her as gifts, because trust me, she can get anything she wants on her birthday.”

Niall opened the bottle of Coke, pouring it into a plastic glass. “She’s a model.”

“It has its perks.”

“So what did you get her?”

“I decided to have her portrait done. Or rather I would make it. I got my brushes, paints, canvas, large one, and rented an apartment in New York so she would never see it. I searched for photos that she loved of herself, and found one, of her with her hair falling over her shoulder, smooching and winking at the camera.

“So I began painting. I think I went through forty-seven canvases trying to get her right – either her nose was big, her wink looked like she had a stroke, her neck to think looking like a bobble head, or the color of her skin wasn’t right.

“Eventually I got it right. The day before her birthday I got Kareem and Jawaad to help me take it to her apartment, when she was out in New York with Doniya, and set it up somewhere where she wouldn’t find it in her apartment.

“Like a treasure hunt sort of thing?” asked Niall, lips widening. “That was such a co—”

“No, Niall; wasn’t a treasure hunt. I just needed to hide it before her birthday.”

Niall drank his Coca Cola. “Treasure hunt would’ve been so cool.”

Zayn rolled his eyes with a _can I finish?_ but the corners of his lips were tugging up. “So it was her party and presents were going round and it was my turn. The Boyfriend’s gift. I asked Jawaad to help me carry it to where the party was and there it was. For her.” Zayn expression changed to something Niall knew was something akin to things never going to how you want them to. “And then it was over.”

“What? But what happened? Did she open it? Did she like it? What happened?” Niall asked with bated breath.

“Course she opened it. In simple words she didn’t like it. I could tell, behind her fake smiles, fake laughs, taking way too many photos, pretending that she liked it,” he shook his head, as if to shake the memory out of his mind, “and then recently, about a week ago, she tore it. Right in the middle. Swore it was an accident, Kendall and Taylor backed her up, but the way she said it, the way she said sorry like she didn’t mean it.”

Niall’s heart sunk to his stomach as he watched Zayn’s head fall into his hands which then flattened on his forehead and his hairline.

“I can’t seem to get it right with her anymore,” he said softly. “What with my girlfriend, my Manager saying I’m not doing enough, my family… the only good thing in my life right now, the one thing I can count on, is my music. Everything else is going to shit.”

And. What the fuck was Gigi’s problem?! She was an ungrateful bit—

Niall willed his anger down — had to — knowing he was going to explode if he did not stop himself. Knowing if he saw Gigi within the next 20 seconds he would not forgive himself for what he would do. Instead, he wrapped both arms around Zayn’s shoulders, laying his head on his upper back.

“I’m running myself into exhaustion, Niall,” he whimpered and Niall could feel his body deflated, shrink to become smaller than Zayn was meant to be. And Niall held onto him tighter as he heard him take a shaky inhale, and another trembling exhale.

“C’mon, we’re leaving.”

“Huh?” Zayn looked up to find Niall standing up.

“We’re leaving, c’mon.”

“But we—”

“We don’t need to be here.”

“At least let’s clean—”

“Leave it, Zayno,” said Niall, now holding the kitten’s cage with the kitten in.

He got up silently, following Niall out of the room, out of the cinema theatre and into Niall’s car. He busied himself with admiring the sleeping kitten within its cage over the sounds of (no surprise here) Troye Sivan (least Niall was playing _BITE_ and not _BLUE_ like he always did). Inside the house, he asked what they were doing back home. Niall did not answer but followed him to… his bedroom?

“What we doing?”

“I don’t know about ‘we’ but you’re taking a nap and I’m going to try and convince Eleanor to leave Mumbai and come back home.”

“I’m not sleeping when we’re—”

“Zayn, you’re tired and granted we’ve both had a bad two weeks, but for some reason you usually look refreshed after a nap or a smoke. Normally I’d be all for smoking because of how it makes you feel but you look like you’d finish a whole pack of Dunhills.”

“Not a whole pack,” he muttered.

“So nap. I have spare sweatpants you can wear because sleeping in ripped jeans is not comfy, nor a heavy leather jacket.”

So that was how Zayn found himself in bed, snuggling in between Niall’s red bed sheets and making space on the bed for his new kitten to which Niall got one of Eleanor’s pillows for it to sleep on. Or rather, Zayn insisted the kitten need to be comfortable and Niall complied.

 

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

“Hello Ma’.”

_My Chicken!_

“You busy?”

_Course not. M’never busy for me child, ye know that._

Niall smiled through the phone. He laid down on the grass of his backyard, looking up at the dark blue canvas with a crescent moon to the far left.

“How’re you? Everything alright?”

_M’good. I went to the market to look for peas – Chris’ favourite. But they didn’t have any so I asked the shopkeeper if they could get me some, or which market to go to._

“Why do you need peas, Ma?”

_For Chris. He likes havin’ chicken stuffed with peas. Says it reminds ‘im of ‘Ome._

“Where is Home?”

_I told ye before! He is from Sydney, but grew up in Pretoria, and moved to Mullingar for his job where he decided to settle._

“Yeah, yeah.”

_How’s me Chicken?_

“You haven’t told me about your life, Ma, I need more information.”

_Yer the one ‘ho called._

“So?”

_Ye never call me, Chicken. Only when ye need to._

“That’s not true,” said Niall but it was totally true. He felt a little guilty about it. “But I always need you. And sorry ”

_I can hear it in yer voice. Is it ‘bout ye best friends?_

“Liam apologized,” said Niall, looking at the brightest star in the night sky. “Harry is on the fence and Louis wants nothing to do with me.”

_M’sorry, Nini. But this is just a small spat, like ye always did have, and it will work itself out. Ye never do stay mad at someone for too long._

“Not this time, Ma. I feel like it’s really, really over with me and Louis.”

_Nothin’s ever certain, Chicken. Ye know that._

Niall breathed in, the night air cold in his lungs. He set the phone on loudspeaker, getting tired from pressing it to his ear, and setting it on the grass.

“I took Zayn to watch a movie, his favourite, and it was fun and all, but do you know what he said?”

_What’d he say?_

“‘Nobody’s ever done this for me’ and I’ve been wracking my brain the whole day trying to figure out what that means.”

His Ma was silent on the other end but he could hear her breathing so he knew she had not hung up (not that she would).

“Eleanor said that it was the gesture. I knew his favourite movie, I got him his favourite bag of gummy bears – just the reds – and just the whole movie thing.”

_Ye don’t think that’s it?_

“You should’ve seen him, Ma, the whole time. He looked so relaxed, I’ve never seen him like that. Like everything that had been wearing him down had been deleted from his brain and he was…” He looked straight at the brightest star. “… Calm.”

_Maybe he needed t’ relax._

“I thought that too but he said, ‘Nobody’s ever done this for me.’ which would mean something beyond taking him somewhere to relax.”

_It would._

“So what do you think, Ma?” he asked, impatiently. His Ma seemed to be stalling.

_This is so ye, Chicken, always worryin’ about others._

“Ma!”

_Ye say that he’s always nappin’, sleepin’, sayin’ he’s tired all the time?_

“Yeah he is. I can smell the exhaustion off him.”

_Then why did ye take ‘im to a cinema when ye should’ve let ‘im sleep?_

“It was his favourite movie! C’mon Ma, tell me what you think he meant.”

_Ye know how there are people in this world who simply are givers? Ye being one of them?_

“Yeah…”

_He’s like that, too. Except, he does not see it._

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

_He’s set on fire to keep those ‘round ‘im warm._

Niall’s lips parted slowly. “I—I don’t get it.”

_Ye Arab friend set ‘imself on fire to keep his family, friends, his fans, everyone warm. He’s constantly tryin’ to put a smile on their faces, to keep them happy, and in the end it’s drivin’ him to exhaustion, he’s burnin’ out._

“Do you—Why would he do that?” he asked, sounding outraged. “Why should he be doing this to please people when he forgets about himself?”

_Eleanor thinks it’s because of the guilt of when that Arab boy left the band eatin’ him up._

Niall blinked up at the night sky. “You and El talk about Zayn?”

_She’s worried about ye, Chicken, by how much ye worry about ‘im so naturally we worry together. Do ye know she called me all the way from Mumbai to talk about that? And then when her phone went dead because her credit was finished I called ‘er back and we talked twice as long?_

Niall laughed despite himself. “I’m not that worried. No need to spend large money on phone bills discussing my life.”

_Niall, I don’t want ye drivin’ yourself mad worryin’ about the Arab boy. Yer my only baby star and I’m not goin’ to—_

“Keep calm, Ma. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

_Nothin’ better, ye hear me?_

Niall sighed hands on his warm stomach. “I hope not giving up on people is not going to be my downfall.”

_S’why yer an amazin’ person, Chicken. Ye never do, even on people who don’t deserve it, because ye believe no one should be given up on._

“Look where it has taken me,” he mumbled. Do not get him wrong, he was floored by his Ma’s powerful words, resonating deep into his soul, but he could not help but be doubtful. “Louis hates me, the three of them did for a while when I was friends with Zayn, the world still doesn’t like me….”

_Nonsense. Yer lookin’ at it wrong, people love ye._

He rolled his eyes. “You’re my Ma so you have to say that.”

_Ask anyone, Nini. They will all say people love ye because yer a bunny in a world full of snakes and the fact that nothin’, not the fame or people’s perceptions, have changed who ye are._

“Thanks Ma. So… you think what I did was OK?”

_I think it’s a start. Arab boy’s goin’ t’ need to cool ‘imself down or he’ll burn out and it will be ugly. I think ye’ll be the one to help him turn ‘imself off._

 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly appreciated ☺ ☺ including +ve criticisms ! i think this is the fastest i've ever upload, sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!! 
> 
> take care


	12. He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs listed in this chapter are OBVS not written by Niall and they are:  
> Human - Rag'n'Bone (Niall's 2nd single)  
> Bust Your Windows - Jazmine Sullivan  
> & I do recommend a listen if you want
> 
> enjoy

****

 

 

> **We’ll take each step together**  
>  **Til you come back to center**  
>  **When life feels too heavy – just hold on,**  
>  **I’ll carry you**  
>  **~ Union J**

 

Niall had his Instagram account, cue in a sigh of relief from the fandom, but he had not posted anything yet it had been weeks. He was looking for the right first Instagram photo but had not yet found it. And he did, when he went to visit his Grandma with his nephew.

If there was anyone who was just as cheerful, radiating sunlight and wicked as Niall was Niall’s grandmother. He went to visit her that morning on Saturday, tagging Theo along because why not, and spent the whole afternoon with her in the outside, sunny sun of May.

“Where’s me gran’daughter?” questioned Grandma.

“Here I am,” gleed Theo from where he was sat on the grass.

Niall laughed while Grandma smiled softly. “You’re not her granddaughter, you’re her grandson. Holy shit! That’s wr—Ow! Grandma!”

Grandma had hit his thigh with her walking stick. “Stop cursin’!”

“Shit,” cackled Theo.

“Fuc-dge. Fudge,” he quickly corrected himself before Grandma thwarted him with her walking stick. “Greg’s going to kill me. Theo, don’t say that word. It’s a bad word.”

“What word?” asked Theo, sounding innocent and all. Besides them, Grandma was snickering into her frail hand.

“The word that I said.”

“But you said ‘fudge’ isn’t a bad word,” insisted Theo. Niall groaned as Grandma’s snickering became louder. “Is it a bad word?”

“No. No, no, no,” he said as an immense sense of guilt washing over him what with Theo looking at him with doe eyes and admiration. “It’s a lovely word. So lovely to eat, as well. The word that begins with S.”

“Shit?”

“Yes, that one. Don’t say it again or your Da’ will be mad.”

Theo gasped. “At me?”

He nodded. “And me too. But never Grandma for some reason—Ow! Stop hitting me Gran!”

“Keep talkin’ smack and ye get hit,” she said, waving her stick around, dangerously close to Niall’s nose.

So they kept going on, Theo repeating the ‘S’ word thrice to which Grandma laughed harder than before. Niall simply prayed that as he dropped Theo home he would not say the word (he did say the word and Denise spent close to 20 minutes scolding him)(then his brother called and made fun of him for it).

“Where’re ye off t’ now?” she asked as the Retirement Home were settling down for dinner. Theo was eating heartedly, chatting with a couple of Grandma’s old friends who were utterly charmed and wood by him. No surprise there. The Horan charmed worked on everyone, like how the sun shone on everyone.

“South America first,” responded Niall. “But not before the Youtube Awards.”

The Youtube Awards were held every year in the middle of May, normally on a Wednesday, and this year it would be held in Milan, Italy. There were loads and loads of categories such as Most Followed Person 2016, Lyric Video of the Year, Comedian of the Year, or Short Film; several categories such as Education, Comedy, Sports, Political, Eyewitness, Instructional, et cetera. There were other idiotic (Niall’s opinion) categories such as Tip Your Hat, Round of Applause, Aces All Day (he admitted this one was a cool category to win), Team Awesome Award,  Permanent Recess, and his personal favorite (because of the name) Heroes are Remembered, Legends Never Die and others he stopped reading.

He was among those nominated, for a total of eight categories. Eleanor was nominated too, and she seemed to be neck-with-neck with Zöella on both their nominations especially the Most Followed Youtuber. Zayn, too, was nominated, as well as One Direction as a band, and several and many more celebrities and famous people.

There were going to be performances on D-Day and he was among them. Much to his relief, and several kissy emojis to Eleanor, he would not be performing _This Town_ but debuting his single at the Awards show. Right after Ariana Grande performs her song with Nicki Minaj, _Side To Side_.

He was buzzing already!

“I can’t wait!” he gushed to Liam over lunch, two days before the Award show. “This is exciting!”

“I know. We’ve literally never been nominated for a Youtube Award and here we are, in several categories,” said Liam. He took a bite of his stir-fried Thai rice. “What the hell is a ‘Good Addition Award’ anyway?”

Niall laughed, hand around the neck of a Guinness bottle. “I don’t know but you should’ve seen Eleanor’s face when she read her nominated categories. I mean, there were the makes-sense categories, then these others like Aces All Day, Tip Your Hat… Did you know the Aloha Award is for the best travel vlog?”

Liam shook his head, grinning at Niall. “The name sounds cool though. Aloha Award. Do you think she’ll win?”

“Course she will. She’s a star!”

Liam chuckled. His eyes swiped through his pool party, everyone out here under the sun enjoying themselves and mingling. It was, to begin with, a party for the team as a way of saying thank you and their 6-3 win over Manchester United last Sunday. Thereafter, more calls were made, more people came (mainly footballers) and it was a full-on party, with more food, more beer, more fun.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he said, grateful Niall agreed to come when he said he was throwing a party. Even if he had to say that Diego Costa, David Luiz, Eden Hazard _and_ Cesc Fabregas (and others, of course) were present.

“Course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he grinned at Liam, teeth and crinkled blue eyes.

“You could’ve called Zayn…,” he trailed off and Niall quirked an eyebrow. “I mean it, I’d be fine with it.”

“Doubt it.”

Liam chuckled lowly, uneasy. “I meant it when I apologized for being a jerk to you. And him, sort of. We’ve been texting, it’s been light though, but. Baby steps, y’know.”

Niall nodded like he knew. “’Know what you mean. When I started texting Zayn the conversation kept falling short and flat a lot.”

“You as well? I thought it was just me.”

Niall chuckled into his Guinness. “But that’s just Zayn. He warms up to you after a while, don’t let it bother you. He’s more of a listener than a talker.”

“Figured. But I don’t know what’s cool to talk about with him.”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“He’s one of those guys who you’d talk about, I don’t know,” he turned his head round looking around the party for spur-of-the-moment inspiration, “swimming pools one minute, the next you’re having a deep-seeded conversation about how beer began. Or who began Hilton hotels.”

“That’s so random,” chuckled Liam, chewing on his food. “Who did begin the chain of hotels?”

“Conrad Hilton.”

Liam swallowed his food making an impressed expression with his face. “Cool. Alright, I guess I’ll keep our conversations going and see if we do go beyond the ‘What’s new?’ part in the conversation.”

“You’ll be great.”

“And I mean it, next time invite him.”

“Well, he’s technically not even on the continent so, even if I could, he wouldn’t make it.”

“Where’s he?”

“In Florida promoting his album and stuff. Then tomorrow he has a photoshoot with some magazine I didn’t catch the name.”

“He’s so busy. Busier than we were when we were in One D.”

“I know,” he said quietly that Liam leaned forward. “He’s doing too much.”

“Success is earned, not guaranteed.”

“This is _over_ working yourself, Payno.”

“With the shit that went down last year, he sort of does.” And Liam clasped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, didn’t mean that to come out as it did.”

“S’fine. But doesn’t make it better, he shouldn’t overwork himself for something he wanted to do.”

“But he loves what he’s doing…”

“But he’s always tired,” commented Niall. Their conversation is cut short when three footballers, Courtois, Luiz and Azpilicueta, came with balloons filled with water and dropped them on top of their heads and roared in laughter at two soaking wet singers.

“Seriously, David?” groaned Liam.

Niall was not bothered, instead laughing along with the three of them as Liam muttered below his breath about his food swimming in water. Niall thought this moment was perfect, it really was, and he picked his phone and logged onto Instagram. His second photo on Instagram was of the three laughing friends and a groaning friend, with the caption: _Blues_ with blue hearts and pool emojis.

 

The day before, Eleanor had arrived in Milan, after going home to London, and she was explaining to him the events of what would happen at the Youtube Awards i.e. what time he would be arriving (at five), what time he would walk the carpet (at five-thirty right after Twenty One Pilots), what he would be wearing ( _an indigo suit that brings out your eyes_ , El had said), and yadda yadda yadda Niall tuned her out, opting to watching the final Harry Potter movie.

“Why do I even bother explaining anything when you’re all Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that!”

Niall chuckled absently, his mind on the scene where the War was taking place: in front of Hogwarts. “This is such beauty. How David Yates managed to capture the fighting scenes, the music, the curses splaying everywhere—and what the bloody cunt are those spiders doing there? Their leader died!” he shouted at the Hotel TV.

“What scares me is that you have the soundtracks to all the Harry Potter movies.”

“‘Tis normal,” he said defensively.

“Sure. If you, like, watched it once in every six months, not literally every week.”

“Gotta watch each one each week, then for eight weeks you’d  have finish the series. And then you start again.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes but despite her complaining she snuggled close to him and they watched the rest of the movie. In between the movie, where Snape was killed by Nagini, Voldemort’s ruthless snake, he pocketed out his phone from his back pocket, and opened his Snapchat App.

He took a couple of Snaps, with various captions of Hogwarts, and two videos (one of Eleanor watching the movie keenly and one of the large TV screen showing Snape discover Lilly Potter dead on the floor.

Then a light bulb popped on top of his head.

He quickly went to Twitter, and composed a Tweet to Zayn.  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@zaynmalik GO ON POTTERMORE.COM NOW!!!_  


“It’s not fair though,” murmured Eleanor, “not fair that this whole time Snape was really looking out for Harry and Dumbledore was a pig looking out for himself.”

“Are you discussing the movie?” he asked, surprised. The TV screen showed Dumbledore asking Snape, “Lilly?” and Snape replies, “Always.” and it always got to Niall. Every. Damn. Time. “No matter how many times I read the books or watch the movie, this scene always gets to me,” he said, blinking away his watery eyes.

“I know!”

His phone buzzed from the couch and he quickly unlocked it, rushing to reply to Zayn’s tweet.  


**zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@NiallJHoran What is the website for?_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@zaynmalik Be a sport & go on it !_

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@NiallJHoran Is this Harry Potter, Niall?_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@zaynmalik PLEASE!!_

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@NiallJHoran Alright. Logged in._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@zaynmalik Do the Sorting Hat questionnaire._

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_@NiallJHoran Just a second…_  


As Zayn was answering the Sorting Hat questions on the Harry Potter website, where he would learn what House he would be in if he were at Hogwarts, Niall was biting the skin near his thumb. He was nervous, even for something like this, but he could not stop hoping he would be in the same House as him. He was in Slytherin, of course, Eleanor was in Gryffindor, same as Louis and Liam, and Harry was in Hufflepuff (he honestly did not expect anything else).  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@zaynmalik Youre taking so long wanker!_

 **Zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@NiallJHoran There are many questions, fucker!!_

Niall laughed, Eleanor raising an eyebrow at him but he bit on his bottom lip, shaking his head at her.

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@NiallJHoran What House are you in?_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@zaynmalik Slytherin of course._  


“Slytherin” was the third trending topic worldwide within seconds. And because Niall was in a Harry Potter mood, he followed Directioners who had anything remotely Harry Potter-related in their @ names as he (impatiently) waited for Zayn to finish the questionnaire to determine what House he would be in. (Please Syltherin, Niall prayed).

He should have prayed harder.  


**zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@NiallJHoran I am in Ravenclaw._

“He’s in Ravenclaw,” he voiced his disappointment.

“Who is?”

“Zayn.”

Eleanor turned her eyes from the TV to Niall. “What?”

“He did the Pottermore quiz and he is in Ravenclaw.”

“Ha! I pegged him for a Hufflepluff.”

Eleanor turned her attention back to the movie not noticing the glare Niall was piercing her with. That was _not_ what he wanted to hear. _Hufflepuff?_ He took in a sharp breath. _Over his dead body._

His third Instagram photo was of a scene from the TV when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing under the dawn of a new day, holding hands. His caption: _Always, Hogwarts. Always_ with the house emoji.

 

It was D-Day for the Youtube Awards and Niall would be performing in literally four minutes. No, he was not panicking. Just hyperventilating and forcing himself to vomit so he does not do it on stage. He gave up, seeing as his stomach was adamant on not sending anything up his throat.

“Dunno why you’re panicking,” said Liam, “you’ve been rehearsing for a week now on your new single, which, F.Y.I is sick.”

“Yeah, well, I’m on my own now so…” he took a deep breath in, and another out. “What are you even doing backstage?”

“Eleanor thought you might be trying to make yourself puke,” he said, coolly.

Niall sarcastically laughed. “Need to stop sharing everything with her.”

“I really hoped she was joking but then she had a serious face so…”

“Like this is my second single, off my album, and what if it does worse than _This Town_? Or what if people actually start boo-ing in the second verse? Or the first line? What if they say it’s not m—”

“Hey, hey,” Liam patted him on the back, “you’re just nervous. I’ve heard you sing and it sounds out of this world. Sure, it’s a little different from your normal sound, but imagine if every song you sang was like _This Town_?”

Niall chuckled, still nervous. “People would sleep.”

“Exactly. But, this song is beyond just the tempo; it’s the lyrics, the words, the meaning behind everything that will make people wish they knew the song just so they could sing.”

“Thanks, Payno.”

“Or even better they don’t know the words so they can hear you sing because tonight’s all about you,” he grinned at him.

Niall’s lips twisted into a smile. “You’re the best, Payno.”

“Anytime, Nialler,” he said, patting him once on his back. “Now go out there and show ‘em!”

Niall walked, Liam by his side, to the backstage and waited his turn. Eleanor was nowhere to be seen, but that was no problem, she sent a text with many, many confetti’s, four-leaf clovers and Irish flags. In Eleanor’s speak to Niall, that meant ‘Break A Leg.’

The stage was dark but he managed to navigate his way through, praying his feet would not stumble over the hundreds of wires. He had been practicing the entire afternoon so he was good to go. His outfit was alright – though he should not have listened to his cousin, Willie’s, fashion advice. Reason being, he was donned in a black skin tight jumpsuit with a glow-in-the-dark skeleton drawn over it. He felt like a right idiot right now.

“… and up next we have Niall Horan performing his debut single, _Human_ , for the first time,” The Host introduced him.

The song began, the intro beginning and this was it, this was his moment.

 

_I'm only human, I'm only, I'm only  
I'm only human, human_

  
The red and orange lights came on, illuminating the stage where he and the band were. His body suit was glowing to the crowd as if he was a skeleton and it came out brilliantly.

  
_Maybe I'm foolish, maybe I'm blind  
Thinking I can see through this and see what's behind  
Got no way to prove it so maybe I'm lying  
_  
  
_But I'm only human after all, I'm only human after all_  
_Don't put your blame on me, don't put your blame on me_  
  
_Take a look in the mirror and what do you see_  
_Do you see it clearer or are you deceived, in what you believe?_  


The ceiling was now lit up in brilliant splashes of blues and indigos, looking like a canvas with splurges of paint. As he sang, he stared up at the ceiling, thanking the stars that it did turn out to look brilliant. Eleanor had said, with a wink, it was a splashing idea but he did not think that the _designers_ would have gotten what he wanted. But they did.

He shut his eyes and belched out the chorus, colors of red and orange illuminating him in the dark auditorium.

  
  
_Some people got the real problems  
Some people out of luck  
Some people think I can solve them_ _  
__Lord heavens above_ _  
__I'm only human after all, I'm only human after all_  
Don't put the blame on me  
Don't put the blame on me

 

He took a deep breath, licking his lips, as the band continued playing as he awaited his part. He opened his eyes to look at the audience. The skies, rather the ceiling, of blues and indigos, opened up and paper humans rained down on the audience. The papers looked like the Toilet signs that indicated the gender but instead of blue and pink they were in different colors, specifically the colors of the rainbow.

There were short rounds of applause, and clicks of cameras, as the rainbow paper humans fell down on the audience and he could not help but smile.

  
_Don't ask my opinion, don't ask me to lie_  
Then beg for forgiveness for making you cry, making you cry

It was nearing the end, and the lights were dimming, starting from the back of the audience down to the front. The stage was now in fading neon lights of yellow and green, shining down on him and the band and his human skeleton was brighter than ever.

  
_I'm no prophet or messiah  
You should go looking somewhere higher_

The lights were completely out now save for the ceiling which was still lit up in dots of blues and indigos, and his glow-in-the-dark skeleton suit.

  
  
_I'm only human after all, I'm only human after all_  
_Don't put the blame on me, don't put the blame on me_  
_I'm only human I do what I can_  
_I'm just a man, I do what I can_  
_Don't put the blame on me_  
_Don't put your blame on me_

 

**~  ~  *  ~  ~**

Niall blindly reached for his bedside when his phone buzzed. He slammed his hand down, feeling for his phone but he was getting dull pain jabs to his palm but not from his phone. His phone vibrated, again, and he heard a startling thud in the dark.

“Crap!”

He stretched his hand down to the carpet floor of his Hilton room but his hand could not reach as the bed was quite high, now that his sleepy head thought about it. His phone buzzed again, and then again, and he groaned loudly into his pillow before throwing the covers off him and turning on the lamp to his left.

His phone was lit on the floor. 3:56AM. His eyes involuntarily shut, cursing whoever was  texting at this ungodly hour.

Picking his phone off the floor, it was Zayn. With several texts.

 **NIAZ:** Where are you?

 **NIAZ:** I am 100% sure you are at either the Hilton Milan or the other Hilton.

 **NIAZ:** Which one?

 **NIAZ:** Oh shit! Did not see the time. You asleep?

 **NIAZ:** Sorry for these texts. G’night Niall!

The last buzzed when he was reading his texts. And yes, Niall had changed his name from ZAYN to his NIAZ on his phone just because. Niall rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes with his right hand and replied.

 **NIALL:** S’alright !

 **NIALL:** Am @ Hilton Milan (no surprise). Where are U ?

The reply came in seven seconds flat.

 **NIAZ:** I am sort of walking around…

 **NIALL:** Why?

 **NIAZ:** I left Gigi’s party, wanting a smoke, and I just kept walking.

 **NIALL:** Where 2?

 **NIAZ:** Nowhere.

 **NIALL:** Do U want to come to my room ?

 **NIAZ:** Would it be a bother?

 **NIALL:** Tell the receptionist URE coming to see me. 1511

 **NIAZ:** Be there in a few .xx

By the time Niall got out of his bed, happy he was sleeping in decent PJs (immensely thanking Eleanor for dragging him and Liam on PJ shopping yesterday), splashed water on his face, and hugged down his mouth in mouthwash, there was a knock on the Hilton hotel door to his Suite.

He opened it and a shiver run down his spine. Zayn was stunning, well he was always stunning, but right now he was extra stunning. He shaved the side of his face so his hair was falling with a mess of fluff on the to his left side, his eyes were lazily gazing at him with a tiny smile playing on his pink lips which have most likely smoked through half a pack of cigarettes (Niall wants to bet his money on it). He is wearing a burgundy hoodie looking all cuddly and warm with his usual black skinnies and his black boots.

Zayn entered when he stepped aside and Zayn stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He was cold, Niall sensed as he wrapped his bare arms round his middle, like he had been longer out in the Milan night sky than he let on. So he hugged him tighter, if only to warm his body with his, and Zayn buried his face deeper in the crook of Niall’s warm neck.

“Have you eaten?” he asked once they had parted and Niall remembered to close the door.

“Yeah. Had a bite when I went out walking.”

“I have leftover pizza, like true Italians,” he laughed, feeling nervous in the presence of Stunner Zayn.

 Zayn shook his head, in a sad sort of way and it made Niall want to hug him more. “Just. Sleep, yeah?”

“Course.”

Silently, they walked down the carpet floor, past Liam’s room and Eleanor’s to his which was the bigger one (he won the bet, so.) and shut the door. He turned around to find Zayn toeing off his boots and slinging his hoodie over his head.

“Sleep on the left side.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“It’s warm,” he said and he found his neck and cheeks heating up. That was not meant to sound sappy as it sounded. But Zayn was cold, he reassured himself, so it was all good, nothing to be—

Zayn got into the bed, where Niall’s body had been less than 15 minutes ago, and pulled the covers up to his neck and Niall’s brain caught up with his legs to walk to the bed and sleep, too.

“Hope you weren’t sleeping….”

Niall chuckled. “I was but. It doesn’t bother me. You never do.”

Zayn smiled, a tiny one that did not reach his eyes. He leaned forward on his pillow, to the edge of it, and took both his hands sandwiching Niall’s hand in his underneath the covers. Niall’s eyes widened slightly at the coldness of it, cold to the touch, as if his veins ran on ice.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Too much.” He closed his eyes slow. “Tell me about your performance? How’d it go?”

“Weren’t you there?”

“I… fainted,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “One minute I was standing and the next I was waking up. I didn’t know what happened and Gigi, nor Kendall, were there but this nice lady who I think was working the event, was. She said I had fainted and Gigi would be right back.”

Niall did not need to ask to know that Gigi was not “right back.”

“Sorry I missed your performance. I grabbed a paper human,” he said, his eyes fluttering open.

“Who the fuck cares when you fainted!”

“And on your wins…”

Niall won several awards, among them Lyric Video of the Year for _This Town_ , You’re A Gem, and Chief Happiness Director (to which Niall laughed on stage for half his standing ovation). Eleanor won a bunch of Awards, and amongst them Most Followed Youtuber of the Year, skating past Zöella by 489 subscribers. She won many others some of them cool such as all travel-related categories, New Vlog, Youtube Phenomenon, Aloha, Breakthrough of the Year. The weird titled categories that she won included: Aces All Day, Welcome To Awesome, Highest of High Fives, WOW Award, On Point Award, and others that honestly, Eleanor did not need to _leave_ the stage anymore and she ran out of arms – hers, Niall’s _and_ Liam’s.

One Direction did win some Awards, despite their hiatus, to which Liam accepted all four of them. Plus Liam won his own Award, Welcome to Awesome for joining Chelsea Football Club.

“You won amazing ones too,” complimented Niall and Zayn did. “Where did you go thereafter?”

“Gigi thought we should—”

“Did you ask her where she had gone?” Zayn shook his head on the blue pillow. “Why not?”

“Didn’t matter, did it?” he questioned instead. “Gigi said we should go out, celebrate my wins, and hers as well,” – Gigi won the Tip Your Hat Award – “and so we went out, all of us, to her friend’s house, Marc Jacobs.”

“ _The_ Marc Jacobs?” Niall gawked. “Eleanor’s going to flip tomorrow when she learns….”

Zayn made a noncommittal humming sound as a response. His eyes were downcast, and so were the corners of his lips. Niall wanted to reach out and tug his lip up but Zayn was holding to his hand, and the other was underneath his pillow, so he left the idea alone.

“The party turned out to be just a normal party, different Fashion Kings and Queens attending, and turned out it was a party for the opening of Marc Jacobs’ new line of suits for men. So I told Gigi that I wanted to leave but she said I couldn’t leave my own party.”

“What party? It wasn’t even yours.”

“I fainted again,” he said and Niall’s heart sunk to his toes. “I was at the bar, chatting about nothing with the bartender, and I remember feeling like the glass I was holding was too heavy, like my hands were jelly.”

“Zayn.”

“I woke up on a random bed, Gigi not there, again, but instead it was another stranger. He said that I passed out from drinking too much but I barely drank anything. So I took off and walked round, looking for a pharmacy, found one, thank goodness they’re still open at 1 in the morning…”

Niall stilled. He was out on Milan streets since 1AM? For close to two hours Zayn had aimlessly been walking before he contacted him? And most of all, where the fuck was Gigi?

“… and walked in asking for energy pills. I took some and I don’t know I don’t feel that different.”

“Yo-you shouldn’t be taking energy pills,” Niall said, his eyes searching Zayn’s. Zayn was shaking his head as he leaned forward, his forehead pressed to Niall’s warm chest.

“I’m so tired, Niall,” he whimpered.

And shitty shit. Niall wanted to strangle the world and at the same time wanted to hug the exhaustion out of Zayn’s body, or somehow through diffusion or some shit to take _all_ of it from him, or give him some of Zayn’s energy.

And his mother’s words rang through his mind, Zayn’s forehead now pressed to his warm chest, that Zayn was setting himself on fire to keep everyone warm. He was constantly on the move, putting smiles on everyone’s faces except his own.

And he held him tighter. He knew Zayn rarely asked for help, rarely asked for anything, he knew it from before and now when they were recently friends. So for Zayn to find himself texting him at four in the morning, he was desperate. _Oh my days!_ For how long had Zayn held the phone in his hand, the blinking cursor staring back at him, long, long minutes in the cold before he typed _Where are you?_ to him. How long?

His shirt twisted from where Zayn was clutching it, his chest warmer under Zayn’s exhales through his lips. But here he was, here Zayn was, Niall thought, always open for anyone who asked him. Whether it was planning birthday parties, whether it was three interviews in a day, whether it was waking up at ungodly hours to pick up his drunken girlfriend, or struggling to keep his eyes open at 10 at night from drinking and smoking with his cousins, he never said no. He gave… he gave all of himself.

What irritated him, what made his blood boil, was how no one was seeing Zayn driving himself to exhaustion. How no one noticed when he fell to his knees, dragging them across the pavement to help others, how his limbs felt like weights beneath and inside of him, how he wanted nothing, nothing in this world but to lay his head down and shut his eyes to sleep it off, sleep the exhaustion away.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” mumbled Zayn, tearing himself from Niall embrace and onto his side of the large bed. “I’m so stupid for saying this. I shou—”

“Zayn, stop.” Niall held his arm. “I told you it doesn’t bother me.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Coming to you with my problems. I promise you I’m not as fucked as I appear to be.”

“Whatever you are, you never bother me,” assured Niall and he truly meant it. “And you need to stop setting yourself on fire to keep others warm.”

Zayn lips parted, moving about like a fish out of water. Even now, even now when he tried to widen his eyes in surprise Niall could see he was struggling to. He could not because he was tired.

“I don’t,” it was said weakly and small.

“You say I live in my head, yes that I have to accept, you need to accept you light yourself to keep others from harm,” he said solemnly. He locked eyes with him, not daring to look away, ignoring his burning cheeks under Zayn’s intense look, until he could not anymore because now his neck was flushing too.

So Zayn closed his eyes, tucking his hand underneath Niall’s stomach, and slept like a baby. In the morning, Niall called downstairs to the Receptionist, extending his stay at the Hilton for one more day seeing as he was to Check-Out today morning at ten. Except at ten he was in the mini living room with Eleanor and Liam who had ordered room service.

“Keep it down,” hissed Niall walking in. “It’s loud.”

Liam picked up the remote to reduce the volume. “You can barely hear it from your bedroom.”

Eleanor picked a strawberry from the bowl. “Who’s in there with you? Zayn?”

“Zayn?” questioned Liam, feeling as if this was a regular thing and he was knowing about this now.

“He came in last night, or rather this morning, after walking around in Milan. And he fainted.”

“Fainted?”

“What do you mean ‘fainted’?”

“Exactly that. Apparently he had fainted at the Youtube Awards then again at Marc Jacobs’ party,” he narrated. He accepted the plate of warm pastries and tea from Eleanor. “I don’t know, it’s like—it’s not fair to him.”

“What is?” asked Liam.

“He’s wearied down, and now he’s on energy pills which I’m so sure will not work for him because this is months of being tired,” he shook his head slightly, “pills are not going to cut it.”

“You—We need to help him!”

Niall smiled at Eleanor. “Thanks. But.” He swallowed what he was chewing. “Have I ever told you how much I hate Gigi?”

“Why?”

“About a hundred and ten times, yes,” sighed Eleanor. “He never shuts up about it.”

“She doesn’t seem bad,” defended Liam, looking to Niall and Eleanor. “A bad girlfriend, that is.”

“She’s a scumbag,” Niall said, voice dipping to the angry scale. “She doesn’t care about him. She doesn’t see the obvious. She doesn’t take care of him.”

Liam and Eleanor exchanged glances to which Liam raised an eyebrow in question. Eleanor pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Every time we hang out I let him sleep, despite him saying he’s fine and he doesn’t need to. I feel like if I don’t then he’s going to die of exhaustion.” He took a sip of his tea, slow, and set it down on the table. “Sometimes I feel like the only time he sleeps is when he’s with me.”

“That’s got to be tiring,” exclaimed Liam. Liam was taken aback when Niall groaned into his mouth, his half-scream muffled into his hand, which then slid up to his face and into his hair. Eleanor stretched her hand and clasped his wrist.

“Hey, Nini, stop it. You’re driving yourself mad with this.”

“Because nobody fucking cares about him and it feels like I’m the only one.”

“We care, alright?” said Eleanor firmly. “We see it on him, we care for him, and we’re doing our best to make sure he rests his body.”

“It’s not good enough because now he’s fainting and that fucking bitch of a model does not care about his exhausted boyfriend who never seems to sleep.”

Their conversation is cut short when a phone rings. It was Zayn’s. Liam asked why he had Zayn’s phone as Niall answered. The two remained silent as Niall talked, Liam gathering from the conversation it was Gigi on the other end of the line. Niall remained silent the whole time but his knuckles were paling the longer he was on the phone. His right hand was clenched into a tight fist and flames were burning behind his eyes.

Liam almost jumped out of his seat when Niall calmly set the phone down but in a blink of an eye took his cup of tea and threw it against the silver wall. Then took his plate and smashed it, above the stain on the wall.

“What is it?”

How Eleanor could be calm about this was a surprise to Liam because now he was terrified of Niall. Slightly. It reminded him of the Funeral, as he has come to name that day. The day Eleanor had a funeral for her aborted baby, when Niall almost killed Louis that day, blinded by rage and seeing red, red, red.

“Apparently Zayn was meant to watch the sunrise with her today and now she’s pissed off that he didn’t show up. She didn’t even ask where he was? Where he is right now? She didn’t even—She didn’t care at all when I tried to say he was up all night. Fucking selfish cunt!”

“Keep your voice down!” hissed Eleanor, “Or do you want him to hate you for saying that?”

Niall did keep quiet but his fingers kept clenching and unclenching by his sides. He kept doing that and Liam was silent, unsure what was going on. Sure, Niall was angry, but he looked like he was going to rip someone’s head off with his bare hands. Eleanor came back with a tray of glasses, silver cups and blue saucers.

“Go nuts!”

And Liam watched, watched him pick up a glass, a cup, a saucer, and fling it across the room, toss it with all the energy he had in himself, throw it with the anger burning inside him. He could see Niall get calmer as the tray had less breakable things to throw, looked at peace seeing pieces of silverware on the floor.

“He needs to eat.”

Liam turned to where Eleanor was standing with a tray of pastries, fruits and a pot of tea. He had been too focused on Niall throwing things he had not seen her prepare food for Zayn.

“Thanks El,” he said, planting a kiss to the crown of her head, bidding Liam _see ye later, Payno_ , and walking off to his bedroom. Liam cleared his throat, feeling awkward now that his buffer had left him with Eleanor.

“I’ve got to get going,” he said, standing up. “Got to prepare my training, and fly out—actually, fly out first then prepare my training, also to pick up Fabregas because apparently he can’t drive which is dumb because he bought a Fer—”

“Liam!” Liam halted his mumbling. “I don’t know what you’re saying and you need to breath.”

“Breath, right, right. Um,” he hesitated for a moment or two, aware of Eleanor’s intense glare, or stare. “Are we good? Like me and you?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I don’t know. It feels like we haven’t been for a while since the baby incident,” his eyes did not meet hers as he said this, “and it feels like it was a blur the entire time and only now is everything simmering down.”

“Funny, I think things are spinning fast.”

Liam lowered his glance to her smirking up at him from where she is seated on the couch. “You’re winding me up?”

“Little bit… but yeah we’re good. You were pretty decent during everything, save for when you kept calling Niall out for being friends with Zayn.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Won’t happen again.”

“Better not. He doesn’t need more of that in his life.”

Liam nodded. “Of course. Promise won’t happen.”

“Then _we’re_ good.” And she smiled, actually smiled, and Liam visibly relaxed, even exhaling loudly. “Did you really have to leave though?”

Liam scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just—Niall’s sort of our buffer and now that he’s gone, it would be awkward when we have nothing in common.”

“We hanged out before,” she pointed out referring to the era of Elounor. Liam shrugged. “But you can still hang around, unless you really have to leave.” He shook his head. “Good. You can help me decide.”

“Decide on what?” he asked her. She went on to explain to him that she had three different cities she was requested to visit and vlog and blog about and she just did not know which one to pick. As Liam looked through the options in form of photos and short videos, he knew he was in the clear – both with Niall and Eleanor. It felt settling.

 

 

Liam had left, claiming that he really needed to get back before Luiz was blasting his phone to get to London A.S.A.P. Eleanor had a ‘date’ with Drake, which, what the actual hell? How did she fail to mention this to Niall before?! She claimed that Niall was busy with rehearsing for the Youtube Awards and—and _complete bullshit, El_ , he told her.

So, as Eleanor was on her date with Drake, he slid open the balcony door to his Presidential Suite, and slid it close. He sat himself down, perched his beloved guitar on his thigh, and lost himself in the music.

He let the world fall around him into the distant; it was just him and his fingers strumming his guitar. And a notepad and pencil close by. Steve always said that it did not matter _what_ or _where_ the motivation, the inspiration came from, what counted, what mattered was the passion in his voice and that was what he wanted.

He had nodded at him, not quite understanding him then, but nodding to look serious and understanding. Right now, he fished for the motivation and it startled him how quickly it came to him.

He strummed his guitar, humming under his breath, the words rolling off his tongue in tune to the melody of his guitar.

“I bust. I bust the windows of your… vehicle,” he sang then stopped. _Vehicle_? Honestly?! “I bust the windows of your car,” he sang again. “But… But what? What’s after?”

He set his guitar aside and instead took his notepad. He wrote the first lyrics he started off with earlier and decided to write first – he had the melody in mind, anyway. So he scribbled, scratched, wrote non-stop four, five lines without a pause because he had to get the lyrics on paper before they evaporated from his head.

1, 2 hours later he had nearly finished his song, he had the bridge left, but he was pretty proud of himself.

The Chorus… The Chorus was absent. He decided to _not_ make a chorus. He would have a song without a Chorus! He was feeling giddy just thinking about it. He felt reckless right then what with being in One Direction it was drilled into them to _have a Chorus_ as it was the ‘selling point of your songs’ which. To this day Niall still disagreed with Julian Bunetta.

There was Verse 1, 3 and 4…

 _I bust the windows out your car_  
_You should feel lucky that that’s all I did_  
_After four whole years of this bullshit_  
_Gave you all of me and you played with it_

  
_But it don’t comfort to my broken heart_  
_You could never feel how I felt that day_  
_Until it happens baby you don’t know the pain_

_Even though all that you did to me was much worse_  
_I had to do something to make you hurt, yeah_  
_Oh, but why am still cryin’?_  
_Why am I the one whose still cryin’?_

… which he thought he needed to add a few more tweaks and twitches to make it better but the song was basically done and he did not want to change it. He would not change it because every word in his new song he wanted it there. He meant every single lyric.

He felt like he could call it a day so he relaxed into the chair but realized he had no Guinness in his right hand. He walked back inside the Suite, straight to the fridge, fetched two bottles of Guinness then headed straight out.

“More beer?”

Niall smirked at the sight of Zayn on the balcony. He was sitting criss-cross on the seat facing the afternoon skies of Milan. “Awake are you?”

Zayn winked and chuckled softly. _Winked_ , his mind replayed, and replayed and his limbs forgot to _move from the balcony door_ so when Zayn was curiously looking back at him, he snapped out of his frenzy and sat down.

He cleared his throat, not looking to Zayn, specifically Zayn’s eyes which _winked at him_. Great, he was burning up! He cursed his Irish genes ther and then for making him whiter than the rest of the normal white population.

He cleared his throat. “Beer?”

“Nah. Just came for a smoke. Plus, I should be sober not staggering when I go to the airport.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Booked a flight for seven-fifteen.”

Niall checked the time. It was 4:21PM. He missed _4:20_. “L.A. or London?”

“Back to L.A. Actually, heading to Dallas with the cousins. It’s Zayd’s birthday next week but because I’ll be swamped we moved it to this weekend.”

Niall grinded his teeth. There goes Zayn, lighting fires to keep people warm. Niall pushed back his anger and asked, “Did you say Zayd?”

“Yeah…”

“Is that another version of your name?” he attempted to chuckle and Zayn smiled, his smile reaching his eyes this time.

“It’s Arabic meaning ‘to increase.’ It was the name of a slave who became the adopted son of Prophet Muhammad.”

“Really?” asked Niall. Zayn nodded. “That’s so cool.”

“I’m on candle duty,” Zayn told him as if stating a Did-You-Fact. Niall grinded his teeth, once again, and concentrated on the sunny sky.

“I wrote a song today,” he said, changing topics.

“Really?”

He nodded. “It’s about El and Louis.”

Zayn removed a cigarette from the packet lying on the table and lit it with a match stick. Niall, like every other time, was in a trance with his friend’s lips wrapping round the cigarette, taking a long drag, and seeing his whole face smooth out the wrinkles and nightmares.

“Can I take a photo of your hand?” he blurted, and cursed in Mandarin. Yes, Niall can curse in Mandarin.

Zayn blew out smoke through his lips. “My hand?”

Niall nodded and Zayn shrugged, agreeing. He pocketed his phone and snapped a photo of his hand, _leave your cigarette_ , and it looked sick. Well, if a photo of a tattooed hand holding a burning cigarette was sick, then yes it was sick… Sick enough for Instagram; his first photo of Zayn on his Instagram.

“Please tell me it’s not Snapchat,” moaned Zayn. “Again.”

Niall laughed as he typed _Malik Milan_ as his caption. “I’m not always on Snapchat.” He hears the hours and hours of Snap videos and audio and text and knew he was lying. “Well, not not always,” he corrected as his Instagram photo was successfully posted.

Zayn took a long drag, then, “Think you’re getting obsessed.” and breathed it out through his nose. “Can I write something down? Something I can’t say aloud?”

“Why can’t you say it loudly?”

“Can I?” insisted Zayn. Niall nodded. “Notepad, please.”

Niall handed it to him and watched him scribble whatever it was with his pencil. He was writing fast, occasionally cancelling, then continuing to write. Niall waited, and waited but Zayn was still writing, occasionally stopping to smoke. When his cigarette ended and he was picking out another and Niall opted to log back on Instagram.

He had amassed over 400, 070 likes in a span of less than five minutes which, let’s be honest, does not happen even if you are a A-list celebrity. Unless you’re a high A-list celebrity like Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, or one of the most followed like Kendall Jenner or his friend, Selena Gomez.

He logged off, then went on WhatsApp, replying to a couple of people (Willie, Andy González, Deo) others he ignored (Harry, Bobby, and Holly), and some he left on read (Eleanor. She was sending selfies of herself on the plane heading to UK). Technically, because of his choices, Niall was no longer a member of the “4/4 ONE DIRECTION” so he did not know anything new happening in Louis’ life, or Harry’s, and had resulted to finding through Harry Styles update accounts on Harry’s life.

He was done with Dunkirk and had already started filming _Beauty and The Beast_. According to @HSUpdating, Harry was stoked about filming with Emma Watson.

He would, too, only because she was Hermione Granger and Niall would most likely (definitely) freak her out for talking relentlessly about Harry Potter and Voldemort and Tom Felton and what he was up to nowadays…

Niall chuckled, unfortunately aloud, as Zayn sent him a curious frown. He shook his head at him and went back to scouring the cyberspace. He should go on Snapchat but he does not went to prove Zayn right so he opted for Twitter.

“Done,” he announced. Niall accepted the notepad and he quickly scanned it; looked like it was a long read. Niall was not one to pay attention to handwriting but Zayn’s was not bad, though a little messy perhaps because he was writing quickly. Odd it was all in capital.

“Can I read it aloud?”

“If you want.”

“I will,” said Niall, resolutely. “Earlier in the day…” He looked up from the paper and asked, “I presume you mean yesterday?” Zayn nodded and Niall continued reading. “Earlier in the day, Gigi and I went to this tattoo shop we found on Google. I wanted a new tattoo on my leg of a tiger, to match my wolf tattoo, and so off we went. Kendall joined sometime when the ink guy, thankfully he spoke conversational English, was drawing a sketch.” He looked up from the paper. “How fast is this guy?”

“When I said ‘earlier’ I meant like nine-fifteen in the morning.”

“I think the most surprising thing about this is not you getting a tattoo on your leg but you waking up early.”

“Shut up, you fucker.”

Niall grinned at him and resumed reading the notepad. “I was resting and they thought I was asleep so Kendall whispered to Gigi asking why I was getting a tiger. And she joked stating if that is what I was like in between the sheets. Gigi snicked and said that was wrong, on both accounts, and I was getting a wolf to match my other tattoo. I was mortified, Niall. My sex life was basically on display for this ink guy and Kendall. It shouldn’t matter but…” Here Zayn put many more periods. “She said a lot other things, mostly…” he stopped reading aloud, his eyes reading the words faster than his lips could.

Gigi basically talked shit about his tattoo. She made of it, more than Kendall did, and because he was pretending to be asleep, he kept quiet, counting sheep in his head. Except it got too much, as Niall read on, and he got up, telling the ink man that he should stop. Zayn’s tattoo was not even done, as Gigi repeatedly reminded him, and he had a habit of leaving things undone. There was a double meaning to that, as she was also referring to Zayn’s leaving of the band in 2015.

Niall’s grip on the notepad was tightening as he read on, now scheming through, grinding his teeth and all Gigi was doing was make fun of him in front of her best friend and an Italian stranger. So he paid the tattoo man and left – with half a tiger on his leg, half a tiger for a full display. Now Zayn does not know if he should finish the tattoo or never wear shorts for the rest of his life.

“This is what you couldn’t say aloud?” asked Niall once he read the last line. Zayn nodded quietly, smoking. “Why?”

“Embarrassed.”

“Over what? There’s nothing to be embarrassed for. Angry? Yes. Pissed off? Fucking hell yes. You have the right. She had no right to mention the One Direction thing. You didn’t leave with unfinished business.”

“I sort of did, didn’t I?”

“No,” he said, firm. “You did not. You left when you were done because you were done with One Direction. No use continuing to drink spoilt milk, is there? You’ll simply get sick and have horrible diarrhoea.”

Zayn laughing was not the reaction he was going for but it was better than brooding. “Milk?”

Niall shrugged. “I like milk.”

Zayn stared. “What?”

“Don’t you like milk?”

“Should I even be asking why you’re so random anymore?” wondered Zayn and Niall, all teeth on display, shook his head. “Yeah, I do. Makes coffee drinkable.”

“And tea.”

Zayn made a gagging noise.

Niall, thanks to Capitol Records, let Zayn ride with him in the limo as they headed to the Milan International Airport. He was headed home to London where he was sure Eleanor was emptying his fridge with Eóghan, whom was spending a few days in London as he had a job interview. The ride to the airport was quiet, for which Niall was grateful, because Zayn’s head was on his shoulder, thigh pressed to his, and his stomach was doing somersaults the whole way.

They were spotted by fans at the airport, and there were more than usual (probably by his Instagram photo), and it took a while before getting to the Check-In. They did take photos with fans, them squealing over _Ziall_ being together, and then walked towards Zayn’s Gate.

“Why come early to the airport when your flight is at eleven?”

Niall was hypnotized by Zayn scratching his upper arm and did not at once answer his question. “Three hours early and all that. Don’t you read airport rules?”

“You’re a hundred hours too early!”

Niall laughed in response tightening his hands around the straps of his backpack. He did not know what it was but he wanted to be around Zayn all the time. He craved his laughs, his comments, his long eyelashes, his pink lips, his slow blinks, his passionate ramblings of _Deadpool_...he craved Zayn, to simply put it.

They stopped by a chocolate shop and Zayn, the one with the sweet tooth between them, pulled Niall by his wrist and into the shop, all the while fans snapping photos of them and updating the Twittersphere of their location.

“I hope you have your Dentist on speed dial,” commented Niall offhandedly. Zayn smiled, teeth stuck to the back of his teeth, and went ahead to add chocolate covered candy to his mini basket. “Your basket is literally spilling.”

“’Tis not enough!”

“You’re taking so much chocolate like you never eat chocolate because your Ma is going to look inside your school bag.”

“My Mom would, and does, whenever I go home to Bradford,” said Zayn. “What?”

Niall’s eyes had widen to the size of golf balls upon setting his eyes on a frog. Or specifically chocolate frogs, like the ones in Harry Potter.

“Chocolate frogs!” he shrieked, running towards them.

“Thought you didn’t like—”

“No, not like that.” He held one between his hands. “In Harry Potter they have actual chocolate frogs and they have them here,” said Niall airly. “I wonder if they have, like, the cards too just like in Harry Potter.”

“Whatcha mean?” he asked, picking up one chocolate frog box and examining it.

“In Harry Potter, inside the case of the chocolate frogs, there were these collectable cards and each one would have a famous person in the wizarding world, a.k.a. Dumbledore, Snape, whoever.”

“Add them to the basket.”

“Nah, don’t—”

“Niall.”

“It’s fine. I can pa—”

“Niall, don’t make me grab six, seven of these chocolates without caring about the flavour.”

Niall gave in. “Fine. But seven is too much.”

“Don’t you want to see if they have those cards?” asked Zayn, interestedly. Niall bit his bottom lip, considering it, considering if he should buy all the chocolate frogs, or be modest and buy four, five.

“Just five.”

“So… ten?”

Zayn ended up doubling the number of chocolate frog boxes so now Niall had about twenty boxes of chocolate frogs whereas Zayn had two filled bags of various chocolate candies. They found somewhere to sit, somewhere close to Zayn’s Gate and their bodyguards, Max and Julies, were close by.

“It’s like Harry Potter!” beamed Niall as soon as he opened his first box of a chocolate frog and inside was a collectable card. “I got Dumbledore, just like Harry Potter did.”

“Is that the old man?” asked Zayn, leaning over his shoulder to look at the card.

Niall chuckled, nodding. “Albus Dumbledore. He’s also the one who talked about remembering to turn on the light of happiness.”

“You said that’s a memorable quote, back when you asked what is my favourite quote. Here, try the chocolate string.”

Niall looked at the bag. “Looks like a brown worm.”

“Don’t be racist.”

It took a minute for it to sink it then Niall laughed, and shaking his head. “Honestly, Zee.”

“Zee?”

“Still trying nicknames.”

“That’s what Gigi calls me.”

(And Niall, from this day forward, vowed to never call him by that name.)

Niall, instead, picked up the chocolate string and munched on it. It was actually good, a little too much chocolate for his liking, but good. “Not bad.”

“Not bad? It’s delicious!”

“Not that great,” chuckled Niall and went back to opening his chocolate frog boxes. He was not exactly eating them, he was just curious to find who was on the collectable cards. He found several more of Dumbledore, Lavender Brown, Severus Snape, two Harry Potter ones and George Weasley (which Niall kept safely in the back of his pocket).

“Why are you storing that away?” asked Zayn, chewing.

“He was killed in the War so I gotta keep it safe. Dunno when I’ll find him next.”

He snorted when he opened his next chocolate frog box to find Hermione Granger. “I wondered when I would get her. I just need to find Ron and I’ll a complete set of the Golden Trio—Luna Lovegood!”

“Luna what?”

“Luna _Lovegood_.”

“Who was she again?”

“The blond girl who looked deranged, always.”

“The one who lost her shoes?” chuckled Zayn, chewing. Niall laughed and nodded. “What a horrible card to get.”

“She was in Ravenclaw. Just like you,” he teased. “Should be a compliment. Still can’t believe you’re in Ravenclaw.”

Zayn rolled his eyes at him. “Like Slytherin is any better.”

“Draco’s there,” Niall looked up from opening his chocolate frog box at Zayn, “and I go wherever Draco Malfoy goes.”

“Hope you get his card.”

“Same.”

He opened several more boxes, the chocolate frogs themselves he was throwing into the paper bag of the store (giving Zayn one to taste) (he requested for two more because he loved dark chocolate more than anything), and each time either finding a card he already had, someone irrelevant in Harry Potter like Mrs Norris, or a Dumbledore card… again! Honestly, it was like they automatically just printed Dumbledore cards for absolute no reason.

But then, on his 19th box, he found a Draco Malfoy card. _Draco Malfoy_. There, in all its glory, was his beloved Draco Malfoy. The one person Niall loved, truly, in all of Harry Potter, right from the beginning when he stretched his hand for a handshake and was rejected, through his years of taunting Harry at Hogwarts, to when he got the Dark Mark, even when he was to murder Dumbledore, he was truly supporting Draco.

Draco was his favourite, simply put, and he loved him.

“I want you to have this.”

Zayn looked down on his right thigh at a Draco Malfoy collectable card. “Isn’t this that guy who almost killed the old man?”

“Yeah.”

“The one you have a huge raging crush on? Even in real life?” Niall nodded, not daring to look at Zayn. “But why? You love him! And he’s the only one you’ve found.”

“I know but.” He shook his head, eyes on the card on Zayn’s palm. “I want you to keep it. I don’t know—just—have it.”

“I will,” he said, serious, then grinned. He pressed his lips to Niall’s jawline. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Welcome.”

“Think I should head to my Gate…”

“Course,” said Niall. He stuffed all his cards inside his backpack, and threw the back of chocolate frogs into the bin, not before Zayn snagging two or four more. “Remind me if I ever come to Milan that I pass by the chocolate shop.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” said Zayn, bumping shoulders with Niall as they walked to his Gate. “Without _me_ you wouldn’t have found these cards.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks Zayn, you’re the greatest,” he drawled. He was pushed against Zayn’s side, a darker-than-his-own arm round his shoulder.

“I am, aren’t I?”

As they approached Zayn’s Gate, heads began turning around because _that’s Niall and Zayn!_ It was a time-stopping moment for those at the airport who actually knew who they were, and their history, so they took photos, update accounts on Twitter, Instagram were sending updates fast and furious to the Twittersphere.

Either fans were scared to ask for photos, or autographs, as no one asked either of them for either one. They watched, wherever they were sat, Zayn leaning his shoulder against the wall, grinning at whatever Niall was talking about. He seemed to be properly engaged as he was nodding, chuckling, and then his hand squeezed Niall’s arm. If people could see the pink tinge on Niall’s cheek deepen, then… so be it.

Zayn stumbled forward towards Niall as someone bumped into him. Zayn turned round to see who it was, a adolescent girl with black hair tied on the crown of her head, was looking back at him, nonchalantly.

“Sorry?” Zayn apologized, though it came out as a question.

“You should be,” said the girl. Niall frowned at her, wondering what was up with this girl.

“I’m sorry?” now Zayn questioned.

“You should be,” she parroted. “You should be sorry for the Hell you put everyone through since your divorce from One D. You said that you wanted to be a ‘normal 22-year old’ then you go ahead and _not_ be what you told everyone.”

Passer-bys heading to their Gate were sending them curious glances, but nothing compared to the obvious stares the ones seated were sending their way. And not forgetting the phones with flashes on… _and is that an actual camera?_ Niall wondered. _Shit! When did the paps get here?_

“That was an offhand comment, not sent by me.”

“Why didn’t you explain it to the fans?” she demanded.

Niall interjected. “Zayn apologized for what he did but I don’t see why he should repeatedly do it.”

“He owed us!”

“Zayn _owes_ you nothing, not even now. What, you think just because you bought our albums, came to our concerts, voted for us you think he owes you?” Niall should probably have stopped talking but once he got started, he was like a train without breaks. “Think he has some kind of debt for you? Think again, sweetie, because you’ll be waiting a long time.”

“How can you stand here and defend this fucktard?”

“Using Louis’ words does not make it OK for you to call someone horrible names.”

“Louis is right. I can’t believe you threw his friendship out the window for _this_ ,” she sneered, sending daggers Zayn’s way, “one’s”.

“I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. Zayn’s the bravest person I have ever known. To have the courage to be who you are, to go where you are, in this century, what with people telling you that you can’t do this, can’t do anything, is the truest thing in the world. So when Zayn left the band, this is what he was doing and that is why he’s the bravest person and I applaud him every day for what he did.”

A hushed silence fell around them. Zayn lips were parted, and if he could blush what with his darker skin (which he always denied), he did. The fans were swooning over Niall’s words, over how he described Zayn and of course, in a couple of minutes Directioners would know what Niall really thought of Zayn, because really, that was who Zayn was. Brave.

“What the fuck ,Niall?” the girl yelled.

“I think you need to leave!” Niall said, intimidatingly.

“Louis was right. He was right from the beginning when he said that you were the worst of the bunch—”

“Stop!”

She actually did, mostly out of surprise because it was Zayn this time. She slowly turned her head to look at him as Niall doing the same, his face written ‘surprise.’ “You can’t tell me what to do, fucking terrorist! You should go back to where you came from!”

Niall snapped. He placed his hands on her shoulder pushing her back. “Shut up! You don’t know him to start snapping at him. You don’t—”

“He’s a fucking trai—”

“Stop picking at him just because your insecurities are showi—”

She scoffed. “Because yours are so much better?”

“Think you should leave,” said Niall, icily, towering over her. Then Zayn stepped in, slightly afraid of the cold look that has washed over Niall’s expression, standing between him and the girl.

“Let it go,” he said softly to him. “People are watching, cau—”

“Listen to the Paki—”

Niall launched forward, arms flailing forward trying to grab her, any part of her, hair, arm, clothing, ear, but Zayn was pushing him back, until he was not anymore.

What no one saw coming was the smash to the head. A hand appeared, as if from thin air, from behind Zayn that pushed him away from Niall abruptly, his arms flinging in the air, then his head violently pushed against the white pillar, where Zayn’s eyes shut tight on impact with his mouth hanging, and to the floor Zayn’s body fell.

There were gasps, screams, but mostly stunned wide eyes at the scene unfolding before them. Zayn’s bodyguard, Max, was the first to react, running straight for Zayn on the floor. Niall, snapping out of his shock, dropped to his knees, and shook Zayn’s shoulder.

“Zayn!” He shook his shoulder with his hand, “Zayn!”

Meanwhile, Niall’s bodyguard had acted quick and had pinned the black-haired girl to the airport ground. Niall him, now his arms, but Zayn was not waking up. What was worse was there was blood trailing down the side of his face and down his ear, and Niall’s heart tripled in rate.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” he kept cursing. “Zayn! Zayn! Shit, Zayn please wake up! Zayn!”

He was full on panicking now, not noticing the cameras, eyes and voices around him. He only cared for Zayn, for him to open his eyes because. Because this. Was. Not. Happening. He shook him, calling for his name, his voice watery and throat dry at the same time. His fingers touched the blood, _oh gosh!_ , the blood, and his hand literally shook as he stared at the crimson liquid trailing down his fingers.

“Move away! Move away! EMT coming through!”

Niall did not move, still calling for Zayn.

“Sir, please move.”

Niall shook Zayn unconscious body.

“Sir, please.”

“Where are you taking him?” questioned Niall, finally acknowledging the paramedics.

“Sir, please move so we may attend to him.”

“M’not leaving him!” he screamed.

“Who are you?”

“He’s Niall Horan!” someone answered from the crowd that had circled the paramedics, Niall and a bleeding Zayn.

“Well, Niall, are you Zayn’s family?”

“He is,” another one answered, from which direction, Niall did not know, as he was palming Zayn’s stubble in an attempt to wake him.

“He doesn’t have family right here and I’m his best friend so I’m the close—” He stopped. He felt a brush of fingers on his stomach, light and slow. He looked down to find Zayn blinking up at him. “You’re awake,” he beamed, gleed, grinned, laughed in a sigh of relief. He was relieved, and so was the crowd.

“Head hurts,” he whimpered and shut his eyes.

“No!” he panicked. “Zayn don’t close your eyes.”

“Lift him,” ordered one of the paramedics. And Niall did. He held him safe and warm in his arms where Zayn was laying his head in the middle of his chest.

“Better?” he asked and Zayn nodded, small, on his chest.

“We need to move him to somewhere where we can work on his injuries—”

“He’s not moving.”

“Sir, we are aware that— Zayn, was it? — is important—”

“He’s not moving,” he growled, his voice coated with ice. The paramedics looked at loss. Zayn’s bodyguard interjected then suggesting Niall follow their orders as they knew how to make sure Zayn was treated properly. “He’s not moving.” Then to the paramedics: “Whatever you need to do to make him better, you’ll have to do it from here because he can barely move.”

The paramedics, once again looked at a loss, but Niall’s words were demanding and cold and and perhaps the trickling blood from Zayn’s head convinced them to obey Niall. Niall felt fingers squeeze his hips hard (or as hard as they could because it felt feather-light) and he knew he made the right choice. They kneeled before Zayn, one of them checking on Zayn’s bleeding head, the other rummaging through his big, packed red bag.

“You’re the nicest one,” said someone and Niall looked away from the paramedics to a girl, aged 18, 19, with long, bouncy hair. “Don’t listen to a word she said.”

“Yeah,” agreed another, with a thick Italian accent. “She’s not a fan, she’s just some leech.”

Niall half-smiled at them and absentmindedly embraced Zayn tighter.

“He needs you,” said the first one, her voice solemn. “You may not notice it but we can see it, and not just because of now, but from the start. He needs you, Niall.”

“We love you, always, and we support you, no matter who you are friends with. We love all five of you, despite the choices everyone has made, we love you all the same.”

Niall was floored by it all. He tucked his chin further into Zayn’s hair, his fingers pressed to his skin. “Thanks lovers.”

“We love you, Niall. And Zayn,” she added, chuckling lightly and Niall smiled despite himself. “We’re family, after all.”

The airport police arrive, a little too late if Niall was being honest, and they dispersed the crowd. One of them was speaking rapid Italian to the paramedics, who looked to Niall, shook their heads, and said something back in Italian. Zayn’s Gate was ready for Boarding and since they were literally on the ground near the Gate, the crowd was pushed away so that to give them space as well as passer-bys who were walking up and down heading to their gates and terminals. From an aerial view, it looked as if there was an invisible bubble around the four of them and people had to walk around the bubble to continue their path.

“You’ll be fine,” he mumbled close to Zayn’s ear now that his head had been placed on Niall’s shoulder for the paramedics to work on it better. “Just a dumb cut, s’all.”

“Head hurts,” he whines softly.

“Few more minutes,” hummed Niall, palming his arm with the tattoo of his ex-fiancée. “Few more minutes, promise.”

Warm breath tickled his neck, and Niall refrained from physically shivering but. But he could not control his body reactions that way so he continued shuddering, had been when Zayn’s warm breath was closer to his neck, or when his lips pressed to the bottom of his neck because he paramedics were pressing hard on his cut.

“Hurts,” Zayn whined, louder in whisper.

“Can’t you be more gentle?” growled Niall.

“We’re causing quite a traffic and need—”

“But you’re hurting him!” he exclaimed.

“Painkillers should be fine.”

Zayn lifted his head off Niall’s shoulder, mumbling, “We should move if we’re causing trouble,” but winced, winced so hard, and his body swayed, that Niall embraced him, letting him fall on him once more.

“Don’t worry. We’re doing this on your terms. You don’t want to move we don’t,” he said and sent death glares to the paramedics before they interrupted, “you want to, we do; all up to you.”

Zayn dug his nails to his hips and he controlled his flinch, physically had to, and neither could he ask to paramedics to be gentle, he was already pulling huge favors right now.

“Did I ever tell you about how jealous I am of your family?” he questioned and Zayn uttered a low, “No.” The paramedic working on Zayn quickly darted a glance Niall’s way before working on his head.

“Your mother, being a non-Muslim, married a Muslim man, your father, and they’ve been living happily for years now. Your mother converted to Islam, making sure that you all grew in an Islamic household. She made sure you read the Qu’ran, she cooked halal cuisines, did everything to ensure that you were raised as a proper Muslim.”

Zayn’s grip on his hips tightened.

“When I look to my parents, I don’t see that. I don’t see my Ma doing much for Bobby nor vice versa. They stopped doing things for each other, stopped the surprises, the—everything,” he said, words disappearing from his mind. “I don’t know… I feel like this is the example of what love is because I’ve grown up in it. Either no one will care for me or I will care for someone who doesn’t need my care.”

Zayn pressed his face in Niall’s warm neck, his lips brushing on the bottom of his neck with his own lips.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to grow old because what if for years I was loving this person and the entire time they didn’t want it? Spent my years on someone who didn’t want me?”

“Who wouldn’t want you?” And Niall startled. He was not expecting Zayn to speak, at all. He was speaking simply to distract Zayn from the pain on his head and here he was having a conversation with him. “You’ve got sunshine running in your veins, keeping those around you warm, and who doesn’t want a little sunshine?”

“People who want the rain,” mumbled Niall, voice light and airily and _did Zayn just say his veins run with sunlight_? He loved the compliment , honestly, no one, not even his mother, cousins, Eleanor, had ever said this to him and this compliment will forever be ringing in his mind. “Rain helps things grow.”

“People respond better to warmth than the cold,” whispered Zayn, lips brushing his neck.

“All done,” announced the paramedic. From how he was looking at them both, including the other one, Niall suspected they had been done for quite some time now.

“You alright?”

Zayn nodded. “Just need, like, a million painkillers.” He sat up, eyes blinking, then shutting them tight as he sat straighter. If Niall missed the warmth of Zayn’s body pressed to it, well, he tried his best not to deflate right there on the ground.

“You may be feeling a little dizzy but the feeling should wear off in a couple of hours.”

“Couple of hours? I have a flight to Dallas in a few minutes.”

“No travelling for the next four, five days, Sir,” said the paramedic firmly.

“I have a party to plan for my cousin,” protested Zayn but because his voice was low and quiet it came out as a weak squeak.

“He’s not flying,” said Niall and the paramedics looked relived but Zayn pouted from where he sat. “At all,” he added, stern, and that was the end of that.

Niall, with a quick call to Eleanor, was able to book a normal hotel room (Hilton, of course) where he could let Zayn rest. Zayn sighed happily when his body fell on the smaller-than-Niall-is-used-to bed. Pulling back hair from his face, Zayn fluttered his eyes shut, and Niall could help but stare harder than usual.

With long eyelashes fanning his cheeks, he looked at peace, here and now, as if all the exhaustion was exiting his body. Niall was lightly scratching his scalp, Zayn leaning into the touch, and wondered if, just if, anyone took care of Zayn? If anyone took the time out of their day to do something for him? For once in their fucking life?

Niall grinded his teeth.

“Thank you for being here when I woke up.”

Niall blinked out of his trance. Zayn was gazing up at him, his face soft around the edges. “Hmm?”

“Earlier, after—after everything, thank you.”

“Course. I’ll always be there for you,” he meant it, he truly did. Zayn opened his eyes, again, long eyelashes fluttering, and he gazed up at Niall. He held his gaze, neither of them saying anything, Niall daring not to breathe in case something shifted and all was lost. Zayn reached out to palm Niall’s deep pink cheek, his thumb grazing on the spot near Niall’s mouth.

Oh, his heart might just explode inside of him!

“You’re too good for me.”

Niall swallowed the pool of drool inside his mouth. “My Ravenclaw.”

Zayn smirked, blinking slow. “My Slytherin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... yep getting obsessed with Harry Potter =P I can see it now.... BUT WHO CAN RESIST?!?!?!?
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are always, always welcome ☺


	13. Mess Is Yours, Mess Is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhaustion claims Zayn.

> **And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us.  
>       ~  Norman Maclean**

 

“Honestly, when we reach the cashier, they’re going to think we’re having a party when, really, all this alcohol is for three people!”

Niall laughed looking down at the shopping trolley. Indeed, there was alcohol, but not for three people. There was: five six-packs of Guinness, various bottles of whisky (Niall could not pick which one) among them Jameson and Jack Daniels, and wines that Eleanor had picked off the shelf as if they cost a pound each.

“Pretty sure you don’t need like twenty-nine different types of wine.”

“You insisted on buying chardonnay—”

Niall interjected. “Because Beyoncé sang about it!”

“—And Sweet Rose is specifically for taking baths, obviously—”

“—Baths are meant for cleaning not fo—”

“—But Zinfandel is hard to find so I had to get two. You got the same beer you’ve been drinking since you were twenty.”

“Anyway, are we done in the alcohol department, pretty sure what brought us here was not the drinks but food.”

“Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“Car _what_?”

“Cabernet Sauvignon,” she said, pointing to the wine on the high shelf. “Up there.”

Niall stretched his hand and took it off the shelf. “Cabernet. There is no R. I’ve been thinking it was Ca _r_ bernet.”

“Now we’re done with alcohol. What did Zayn say we should buy?”

After the horrible incident at the airport, Zayn managed to persuade Niall to fly on a plane the following day but to compromise, Niall said he should spend a few days at his place before the weekend in Vegas for his cousin’s birthday.

The said girl was arrested and Niall, personally, was suing and would make sure she served her time for what she did. He did not even have to work that hard; Directioners on Twitter went on a rage and lashed out—at the Milan police, the paramedics, those who were not helping Niall when Zayn was unconscious, and of course, the one who knocked Zayn out. The Prime Minister of Italy, Paolo Gentiloni, even made a public apology for the accident and hoped for a quick recovery.

All Niall tweeted was, _Bullshit_ , to the apology and that was that.

Back in London, his house, he made sure Zayn got a lot of bed rest and keeping him hydrated. He even called his Doctor to check on him, to check on infections and whatnot, to which Zayn pouted like a 6-year old stating he was feeling _great_ and _I have painkillers, Niall_. He slept through the entire day, Niall spending his time writing on his notepad, and Eleanor editing her upcoming vlogs and posting a new entires on her _Where Are We Going, El?_ travel blog.

By night time, Zayn was well rested and well fed, thanks to Eleanor’s yummy lasagna which Niall ate half of it even before Eleanor and Zayn had sat down to have their dinner.

“Thank you for all of it,” Zayn had thanked him when Niall handed him his spare PJs.

“It’s no big deal.”

“ _No_. I mean, thank you,” said Zayn, “not just for the PJs, food, company, shelter… for nursing me back to health and…” he let his sentence peter out.

Niall beamed at him. “Course. Happy to!”

Today, as a way of saying thank you, Zayn said he would cook lunch, for the both of them. Eleanor joked, stating that, if he had the energy because Niall eats for three elephants to which he smacked her with one of his brother’s law books.

Niall, however, insisted he need rest and therefore they would be going shopping for whatever he needed to make lunch. But, Niall being Niall, said they should start with the alcohol section and work their way through the rest of the items.

“Chicken,” he replied, reading down on the list Zayn wrote for him. “A whole chicken. Did you tell him to write that?” Eleanor hummed, walking off to the meat aisle. “People need to know I don’t eat that much.”

“You do.”

“Do not. I just—Ugh! Why do I even bother?”

“One whole Chicken,” said Eleanor, dumping it into the shopping trolley. They went through the list of Zayn’s ingredients one by one, and Niall’s eyebrows shooting up to his hairline with the amount of spices he needed to buy.

“What does he need all these spices for?” he squawked.

“For someone who only adds salt to his food, this is going to be a welcoming change—Ow! Stop pinching me,” Eleanor snapped.

“I use paprika on my food.”

“Only recently after that day that Zayn cooked Thai noodles and you asked what he used and he said, ‘Paprika.’”

Niall rolled his eyes. “He listed cayenne chilli.”

So they went through the aisle of spices, almost picking every spice off the shelf and the shopping trolley becoming a little heavy to push forward. They bought several more things, useless things that both of them most definitely did not need at that moment but… _carpe diem_ , Niall argued. And Eleanor definitely agreed.

“Where’s the sweets section?”

“What do you need sweets for?” asked Eleanor.

“Just. Where are they?” he asked again. “Nevermind. You go line-up and pay as I look for it,” he said hurriedly as he removed his wallet and gave her his credit card. “Nine-seven-ten.”

“I can’t use your credit card, anyhow,” said Eleanor pointedly.

“Tell them you’re dating the Niall Horan,” he winked then jogged off to the sweets aisle.

He walked past the aisle, reading the aisle number and what was on that aisle, until he reached the one with nothing but candy, candy, candy. He found gummy bears, what he was looking for, and bought enough packets that can fill a medium bowl solely filled with red gummy bears.

Eleanor did not mention the handful of gummy bears and Niall blew her a kiss. Back at his place, they find Zayn on the phone, speaking Arabic (or Urdu. Niall cannot honestly hear the difference no matter how many times Zayn spoke to him in both languages to hear the difference) and they unload their bags in the kitchen as he continued talking.

“Are you meant to refrigerate the chardonnay?”

“You can if you want.” Eleanor pulled out two bottles of sweet rose wine. “Should we?”

“Let’s try it warm, and put the rest in the fridge?”

So they poured two glasses of chardonnay between them, clinked, and sipped on that chardonnay.

“Yum!” Eleanor swoons.

“It’s alright,” murmured Niall. “Nothing beats beer but this—this is pretty good. Know what will make it taste better?”

“Chocolate?” Eleanor supplied, pouring more into her wine glass.

Niall snorted. “Course not. Though we did buy chocolate, so perhaps… But no. Beyoncé.”

“Beyoncé?” Eleanor parroted, paused, then screeched. “Of course! Wine does not taste better than listening to Beyoncé.”

“ _Chardonnay_ tastes better listening to Yoncé,” he winked. “But let Zayn finish talking then we play Beyoncé.”

“This is going to be sick,” cheered Eleanor, smashing her lips to his cheek.

Niall did not want to admit it but chardonnay was growing on him, but nothing will ever beat Guinness. And even better when sharing it with friends and, he cannot quite put his finger on it, but everything felt nice and warm and cosy at this moment.

“Get off the counter, he’s going to use it to cook,” Niall chided Eleanor but he was pouring himself more chardonnay and he really could care less.

“You have a large kitchen counter for no reason he literally has like—Oi! Enough!” She attempted to stop Niall from filling his glass with the colored drink. “You’re going to finish it. And remember we have to take it frozen.”

“Frozen chardonnay?” laughed Niall. “We should make ice-cubes too.”

“I meant chilled chardonnay not _frozen_ you idiot—Oh good Zayn!” She turned to acknowledge him. “Tell me, are ice-cubed ices… wait, that doesn’t sound right. Are chardonnay ice-cubes a good idea?”

Zayn chuckled, darting his eyes over Eleanor giggling grinning on a stool to Niall sat on top of the marble kitchen counter, his face hidden behind a glass of what he presumes is chardonnay. “Do both of you drink wine in the afternoon?”

They both laughed, Niall’s louder. “No, no. It’s just that I’ve never tried it and I suggested we should buy it—”

“—Was my idea shithead—”

“—And she didn’t know how to drink it—”

“—Was you—”

“So we tried it warm, for now — here’s your glass B.T.W. — and then later we try it _frozen_ ,” he finished, with a lingering look at Eleanor.

“Chilled, you idiot!”

Zayn sips from his glass. “Tastes good.”

“Tastes good?” Eleanor repeated as if that was the wrong response, which, it probably was. “Just good?”

“He’s not listening to Beyoncé.”

“It’s alright. Last year when I was writing my album and stuff, Malay, this guy I was working with, would go on and on about wine and he sort of talked me into it,” explained Zayn, “but it hasn’t stuck to me like whisky does.”

“Good thing because I bought whisky,” Niall got off the counter to reach out and pull three bottles of whisky, then another two. Zayn had his jaw hanging from his face at the bottles of whisky, apparently all for him. “You literally always have a new bottle of whisky every time you come over so I didn’t know which was your favourite, so—”

“He bought them all!” cheered Eleanor.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, voice low but eyes wide at the bottles. And the gesture.

“Which is your favourite though? Like for future reference?” asked Eleanor and Niall had never been grateful for Eleanor as for this moment. He would love to have asked but then perhaps it would come off as creepy and. And yeah, that was his excuse for not wanting to know. He could go on buying all types of whisky for the rest of his days, just as long as one of them was Zayn’s favourite.

“Jameson or Glenfiddich.”

“Well, we got Jameson, so we were half-right,” Eleanor hummed.

“You were right.”

Zayn, after pouring the rest of his wine in Eleanor’s glass — a massive pout from Niall at that — busied himself with preparing lunch, grabbing Niall’s hand to help before he escaped to the living room to watch _Orange Is The New Black_ marathon on Netflix.

“But it’s Orange,” whined Niall but he was already washing his hands under the tap and accepted the knife that Zayn handed him to cut the chicken into strips. “How are you cooking this anyway?”

“You’ll see,” said Zayn and Niall rolled his eyes.

“Being mysterious doesn’t suit you,” he grumbled under his breath, slicing the chicken into pieces first. “Who were you on the phone with earlier?”

“My Mom,” answered Zayn, cutting carrots. “I was telling her that I’ve booked a flight for tomorrow and would be heading to meet the rest of the family in Vegas, and then fly back on Tuesday to see her before I fly back to L.A. to meet with Sarah.”

Niall nodded. “All planned out, then?”

“Hmm.”

“What time’s your flight?”

Niall waited for his response, as he was slicing and slicing the chicken but it was not _cutting_ so he looked up to find Zayn gazing back at him sharply. Then he spoke, “I’ve got an afternoon flight and a night time one.”

“Why two?” he asked curiously. Zayn shrugged and continued cutting carrots. Niall frowned, absentmindedly going back to cutting the whole chicken. Why would he book two flights? Well, if Niall could pinpoint when his—Bobby left them he can pinpoint why Zayn booked two flights.

But Zayn had finished preparing his ingredients, and the water for the rice was simmering and he _still_ was cutting the bloody chicken.

“You’re honestly hopeless!” snickered Zayn. “You can make desert or summat. You’re off chicken duty.”

“Who’s off chicken duty?” asked Eleanor who walked in the kitchen just then with an empty glass.

“Niall because he has been cutting this chicken for nearly 45 minutes now,” he chuckled and Eleanor snorted loudly under her breath.

“Typical Irish men.”

“M’right here,” he mumbled weakly. “And stop finishing the wine, El!”

“Can’t hear you over Ruby Rose’s beautiful accent.”

“Who’s Ruby Rose?” asked Zayn.

“She’s this Aussie girl that became an instant sensation what with her being on Orange and she’s fucking gorgeous,” said Niall.

“If I was ever a lesbian, she’d be the first lez I’d be in,” said Eleanor wistfully.

“Too bad you’re not.”

“Too bad you’re not a girl or else you’d actually have a shot with her,” retorted Eleanor and walked back from where she came from with a bottle of Zinfandel.

It took nearly two hours later for the food to be ready, what with Niall opting out of cooking completely, or rather got lazy to make desert (to scoop ice-cream out of the tub) and Zayn did everything else. Besides, Zayn seemed to enjoy cooking so it was a win-win. Zayn served each of them, rather himself and Eleanor, as Niall added more chicken to his bowl of food and went back to carry the drinks to the living room.

Eleanor was sat on a lone couch, her legs swinging off it, bowl of food on her stomach as Zayn and Niall sat on the larger sofa with a thousand pillows (Niall’s guilty pleasure are pillows). Niall smiled, upon seeing Zayn propping his feet on the sofa, because it meant he was comfortable around him. Them. Not like the first time when his feet were planted firmly on the ground as they watched _Dope_ and stuff.

So they ate as they watched _Orange Is The New Black_ , Eleanor and Niall humming as they ate because the damn food was so, so good. Tasty. Delicious. Mouth-watering.  And it was vibrant in their mouths, spice exploding on their tongues, the chicken soft and juicy all over—

“Fuck Zayn,” moaned Eleanor. “This is so good! So delicious.”

Niall chowed down his spiced rice and chicken strips. “Not even exaggerating there!”

“Forget singing, be a Chef. Like, take over Gordon Ramsay and get 56 Michelin stars.”

Zayn mumbled his thanks and shoved a spoon of rice into his mouth to stop himself from smiling too much at the compliments. They drank, and ate, and Niall was picking out chicken from Zayn’s bowl, thinking he was sleek but Zayn was watching.

“You know I can see you pick chicken pieces off my bowl…”

“M’not,” Niall denied it, eyes on the TV.

Zayn hummed noncommittally at that, though he slid his bowl of food closer to Niall so he could pick without looking for chicken without struggle. Eleanor held Niall’s eyes when he turned from picking a chicken of Zayn’s bowl and raised an eyebrow. He cursed his pale skin because he was sure both his cheeks and neck were as red as the tomato they had been cutting earlier.

So Niall turned away from her unnerving stare and looked into his almost empty bowl. He saw their knees were touching, thigh to thigh, and this warmth, constant and all-encompassing to him, and he wanted to bask in it. Odd, yes, but wanting. He cannot put a finger on it, the exact reason, but he craves Zayn’s company.

“What time is your afternoon flight?” he asked, low, so as not to attract Eleanor’s attention and her curious glances she has been sending his way.

“At two-forty-five.”

“Night time?”

“Nine-ten.”

“Go at night. Have something planned.”

Zayn teared his eyes from the TV to Niall and _oh my_ , he was close. Niall could see the skin in between the rugged scruff.

“You have something planned?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly. “There’s this… soup place round the corner.”

“Soup place?” questioned Zayn, his tone nothing but amusement. He knew that Niall was making it all up but he played along.

“Yeah. Makes great soup, actually. Want you to come with.”

“Alright.”

“Really?” he was surprised. “Just like that?” Zayn nodded, his eyes locked on Niall’s blue orbs. “You don’t know where I’m taking you.”

“Does it matter? S’long as you’re there, right?” Zayn slightly ducked his head. “I’m there too.”

“If you’re both quite done,” Eleanor said, loudly, “I’d like to know if Chapman’s panty business is doing well.”

“Would you though?” asked Niall, settling into the sofa.

“Sell used underwear?” asked Eleanor, made a face, then shrugged. “If there was any cash in it.” She turned to where they both were sitting, Zayn munching on his food as Niall drinking some chardonnay.  

“How much does it cost anyway?”

“Per underwear?” Niall nodded. “According to Chapman, it’s fifty dollars per underwear, or so.”

“Fifty for an underwear?”

“ _Used_ underwear,” Eleanor corrected. “Would you get into it, Zayn?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Hygiene and all that.”

“But you’re not the one packaging,” Niall pointed out. “It’s—You hire other people to do that. But the real question is _who_ should you recruit for your business?”

“My question is why it’s just women who are in this business?”

“Have you heard of people wanting to smell men’s boxers or briefs?” Eleanor put her spoon in her mouth, chewing. “Like ever?”

Zayn made a gagging noise beside Niall.

“Maybe they’re not in demand as much as women panties,” said Niall. “But yeah, why not? Sure it’s not a clean business – ha! _clean_ –but it’s loads of money like selling water. Always in business.”

“Business is business, I agree, and technically selling dirty panties is immoral on some level, I’m sure,” Eleanor muttered, more talking to herself at this point. “But shit! There’re people out there who’d buy it in tonnes. Like, those who live with their mothers in the basement, those who can’t get laid—”

“This is so cool!” cheered Niall.

“I know, we’d be so rich,” gleed Eleanor. “We’re brilliant!”

“I know, right? It’s called thinking of great ideas.”

“It’s called disappointing your mother,” interjected Zayn, his face scrunched as if he were smelling sweaty feet.

Ignoring him, Niall said, “We need people to recruit. You first.”

“Fuck no!”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because it’s unhygienic,” supplied Zayn. He was done with his food, rather he was done _eating_ now that the both of them were chatting animatedly about dirty, used underwear. He, instead, opened a bottle of Jameson and poured it in a glass.

“And not to mention unnerving. The thought of unknown guys smelling my underwear is gross.” She physically shivered. “Like, don’t you find it creepy?”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” said Zayn.

“Well, thank goodness there aren’t many people who want to smell guys’ underwear so I’m good,” said Niall, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s vaginas that drive the business. It’s not just vagina sweat they are smelling.”

Eleanor raised an amused eyebrow his way. “It’s courage and character?”

“It’s bold and abashed women.” Niall wriggled his eyebrows.

“If you two are going to keep this goin—”

“Just know that it’s not just British people who are our market, it’s the entire world. It could be someone from Tokyo, L.A., Perth, Chile, or the tiny country of Swaziland, we will be people’s dream.”

“ _Wet_ dream,” giggled Eleanor and Niall balled in deep laughter, his hand clutching his stomach as run a hand down his face, groaning. “Literally!”

“Stop! Stop!” Niall cried, laughter punctuating his sentence. He was clutching his stomach, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I’m going to pee on myself!”

“Then sell your underwear for our panty business!”

Zayn choked on his whisky while Niall and Eleanor laughed their hearts and throats off. Niall was on the floor, holding onto his stomach, eyes tight shut.

“Can we please stop talking about this? Or wait until I’m not here?” he requested, not liking the feeling of his stomach churning. After calming down, Niall getting off the floor and sitting back onto the sofa, they agreed to continue their business plans later.

“Thank you,” he told them and laid his head gently on Niall’s shoulder, turning his attention back to _Orange Is The New Black_ (he shut his eyes close to ten minutes later).

Later, when Zayn was taking a late siesta and Eleanor deciding to soak in a bath with the Sweet Rose, he went on Twitter for some fun.

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _Thinking of going into the underwear business… @EleanorJCalder & I are going to be multibillionaires ! AHAHA !_

 

**~  ~  *  ~  ~**

****

“Do you come here often?” asked Zayn walking towards the restaurant entrance from the parking lot.

As promised, Niall was taking Zayn to the “absolute craic” soup restaurant that specialized in soups, among other cuisines, but mostly soup. Niall had suggested they should all go together but she would be meeting up with Alana the same afternoon, and would meet Niall at home later and Zayn whenever they shall meet again.

“Yeah,” answered Niall. “It’s soothing and you get a great sense of privacy round here.”

It was true, as Zayn came closer to the seating area of the restaurant. It was an open place, with cushioned seats that sunk low with low tables as well, their feet touching the clean-cut green grass. Melica, who seemed to appeared out of nowhere upon their arrival, guided Niall to their table. Or Niall’s usual table.

“Thanks Mel. The usual?” he ordered and chuckled at the same time.

“Course Niall. Both of you?”

Niall looked to Zayn who nodded and Niall answered with a, “Yes.” She left the menus and rushed off to somewhere Zayn did not follow her.

“What’s the usual?”

“You’ll see,” said Niall vaguely. Zayn did not push, instead picking his menu and seeing nothing but soup options, lists and lists of soup, couple of sandwiches, desert options which he swore three-quarters were soup, and then drinks, which had a couple of soup options, too.

“Who drinks soup in a glass anyway?” grumbled Zayn, nose buried in his menu. “That’s disgusting.”

Niall chuckled. “It’s not that—thanks Mel.”

Zayn put his Menu down to find… milkshakes on triangular coasters.

“Anytime Ni, give you a few minutes to decide.”

“For me it’s the usual but sure, for Zaynie here.”

“Zayn,” he deadpanned.

“Alright Zayn,” Mel said, a sweet smile on her face.

“Zaynie,” Niall exaggeratedly whispered. Mel rolled her eyes at him and walked off. “Decided on something yet?”

“What am I drinking?”

“Milkshakes,” Niall answered dryly. “They don’t just have soup for everything on their menu. They have normal stuff, you cunt.”

“So you always have a milkshake? A…” he took a sip of his milkshake, “pretty sure that’s mango – milkshake?”

“Delicious,” hummed Niall, setting his cold glass of milkshake down. “What’s not to like?”

“Mango,” replied Zayn. Truth be told, he liked the mango milkshake, he was just making a fuss. “Hey, been meaning to ask, did you, I don’t know, finalize on the whole kissing… guy… boys thing?”

Niall smirked at Zayn half-whispering and his eyes looking elsewhere but at him. “I did, actually. I had a long, long chat with Eleanor about it after, um, think he was Donald, went to the kitchen and found El there in the morning.”

“Shit! What happened?”

“He spent the night,” said Niall. “He’s a brilliant kisser, these eyes that just sparkle, you know, and the way he moved his hips, the way his tongue just trail—”

“Alright.” Zayn held up his hand. “Skip the details.”

“What details?” asked Niall, playing innocent.

Zayn levelled him with a look, but his lips betrayed him as they were tugging up. “So the next morning?”

“Eleanor screamed, like actually screamed, when he walked through and demanded to know who he was. He thought El was my girlfriend, which understandable, she usually dresses light in the morning so made sense, s’pose, but,” he shook his head, “we had a talk after, after Donald left.”

“And?” prompted Zayn when Niall took extra-long sipping his milkshake.

“I am bi but truth be told I’m still… confused?” he replied. “I don’t know, it’s just that when I’m with a guy – any guy – I just want to kiss the fuck outta them. I know I’m addicted to kissing boys, and the sex is great, though little sore, but I don’t know if that makes me a bisexual?”

“You don’t have to label yourself right now.”

Niall eyes drifted behind Zayn where a family were looking for a table. His gazed back at Zayn who was looking back, interested and his sinful lips round the rim of his milkshake glass. “I do because I need to know what the fuck is going on with me right now.”

“Don’t need to figure everything out.”

Niall smiled at him in response, to which Zayn mimicked him with one. Niall’s eyes dropped to the rim of his glass, feeling his cheeks heat up and not just because of the May sun. He stole a quick glance to Zayn who wrapped his lips round the black straw, eyes looking somewhere off to his right. Niall drank him to his fill once more, now that Zayn was not looking at him.

He was donned in one of Niall’s blue plaid shirts that Niall purposely gave to him because he was a Ravenclaw and Niall had to search for a silver and green plaid shirt but ended finding green so he wore that instead today. Blue looked good on him, Niall thought as he enjoyed ogling Zayn, even green. And yellow. And pink. And black. And apricot. Bronze. Ebony. Azure. Red. Even bloody English Vermillion. All colors, really. All colors agreed with Zayn. People had bad colors that did not just agree with them, his was brown, Eleanor’s was yellow, but all colors loved Zayn because he looked splendid in all of them.

Too bad he always chose black at the end of the day.

“How’s the album coming?” asked Zayn and Niall was thankful. He needed to give his eyes a break and also his cheeks were close to burning up.

“Tis great. I’ve written, including _Human_ , three songs and I’ve been on a good vibe of writing. Though it’s a little tough.”

“Tough?”

“Yeah. Um.” Niall fingers wrapped around his glass. “My album’s theme is going to be about abandonment, and I have to dig so, so deep to find the words, the memories, things I don’t want to come up but I need them to.”

“Your album is going to be your therapy? Your childhood therapy?”

“Sort of,” he nodded. “I’m going to write a song about each stage of my life, whether some songs will talk about one stage of my life, or one song for one stage, I don’t yet know but everything is going to go on paper.”

Zayn nodded, encouragingly. He leaned forward on the table, his fingers twisting the red ring on his index finger.

“I feel like the issue of people leaving, especially Bobby and One Direction, is something I need to address. It’s… it’s also a goodbye for me.”

Zayn sets his glass down. “Goodbye?”

“It’s my last album,” revealed Niall and Zayn was gobsmacked. “When we stopped touring, taking a hiatus, and I wrote _This Town_ and promoted it, snag it, it didn’t feel right. Something felt wrong. I didn’t notice until El asked me one time and it hit me that I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“So… you’re quitting?”

“It feels wrong to do this,” he said, truthful. “Feels wrong to get up on a stage and sing by myself; feels wrong to accept awards without—without the rest of you there, it’s not right. It’s meant to be the five of us or nothing.”

“Niall…”

“It’s also my childhood. People did me wrong, I did people wrong, I’m piecing my childhood together, making sense of Mullingar, the people, my family, friends,” he held Zayn’s gaze, “and everyone else—I’m putting them all in a box and throwing it in the ocean. Or in this case, singing about it.”

“You can’t quit, Niall.”

Niall made a vow, that if he did not succeed on his plan to make the five of them brothers again, he would quit the music industry, go back to school, and be what the Horans have always been: lawyers.

It was not that he was quitting, that he was a coward, but just. Singing on stage by himself — his guitar in his hands and lips to a microphone — being on his own was not part of the deal right from the beginning, it never was, and now that he was doing exactly that, he wanted to quit. He needed to quit.

So Eleanor and he, and Steve sometimes, sat down and worked on his exit strategy and finalized on it just last week.

“I’m saying goodbye not quitting.”

“Is it because I was—I left One D? I left on my own accord, because I wanted to get out but you shouldn’t—”

“Not because of you, though you…” he bit down on his bottom lip. He cursed himself for being suddenly shy.

“I? What about me?”

“You’re so brave,” he said in admiration for his friend. “You went ahead and did what you love, fuck anyone who told you no, and—”

“Wasn’t as easy as you put it.”

“I don’t want to be a picture on a wall like those in the Hall of Fame at the Grammy’s building. I don’t to be some guy who won Song Of The Year in 2016 and that’s all I’ll be known for. If that’s all I’ll end up doing then fuck everything, I’d rather do something that lasts.”

“Like Law?”

Niall nodded. “The Horans are lawyers, after all.”

“And they’re entertainers, too.”

Their conversation was halted when Mel came over with their bowls of soup, steaming hot with the smoke. She murmured an “Enjoy” to them both before scurrying off, after Niall ordered for more rounds of milkshake, “The usual, Mel.”

“It’s too hot!” exclaimed Zayn, drowning his milkshake.

“Give it 10, 15 minutes,” advised Niall. “Then it’ll cool enough to eat.”

Zayn nodded and leaned into his couch. He got out his pack of cigarettes and began smoking as Niall took the chance to take photos of their food, er soup, and post it on Snapchat (which Zayn guessed, “You on Snapchat again?”), then another on Twitter of Zayn and smoke all around him, the sun’s rays shining bright down on him, and it was the perfect snapshot.  
  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_Magic Malik @zaynmalik ! AHAHA  pictwitter.com/Is9Aai3qoLS8Fu_  
  


“Am I going to be a bad friend in asking you to never quit smoking?”

Zayn smiled. “Yes. Yes you are.”

Niall stuck his tongue out at him. Zayn squeezed the butt of his cigarette on the ashtray and run his hand through his hair.

“Do you ever feel like that the friends you have, or had, know nothing about you?” he asked, out of the blue. “Like, they don’t know what your plans for Wednesday are, what’s the issue that’s been bugging you for a week now,” he paused, his eyes focused on his lit out cigarette, “they don’t seem to know you. Much. And then you get his one friend that does.”

Niall sipped on his milkshake as Zayn squeezed his cigarette into the ashtray.

“They read you like tea leaves. Know your likes and dislikes, they listen to you, they.” He punctuates his sentence, promptly ending it there. Niall does not utter a sound, giving Zayn his time, and for his soup to cool. “Every day I feel like I put on an armour, and over the years it’s been growing heavier. Lately, it’s suddenly become too heavy to wear around. You can’t take it off because—because you’re scared.

“When I’m with you, I get to take off my armour. I feel safe around you, feel lighter, comfortable. And vulnerable,” he added quietly. “It feels so good to take the armour off you’ve been wearing your whole life, and you crave that light feeling and you want nothing else. You can even cry.”

“I want to make you cry?” he attempted to joke.

Zayn chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Not that type of crying, the crying you cry about when you’re relieved, comforted. The feeling you get when you finally lay your on head on the pillow and sleep.”

“Course you’d use that example.”

“I feel safe around you,” he said and held Niall’s gaze. “I never need to wear my armour, never need to be on guard, I can let it down, and for some reason I crave it.”

Niall’s heart leaped this throat. Did Zayn just say he craved his presence? _Did he?_

“I didn’t know.”

“It all sounds cheesy as hell but it’s good because I know you won’t make of me for it, or tease me. Maybe you will but not in a hurtful way, you know?”

“Why would I?” he questioned instead.

He never did get to hear the end of that sentence, nor never will, because next thing he knew Zayn was screaming. It happened in the blink of an eye. Someone came from behind Niall, walked past him and straight at Zayn with a bowl of piping hot liquid and poured it on his face.

It took a second to register for Niall’s legs to move. He scrambled out of his couch seat, the one who poured smoking hot soup on Zayn’s face, grabbing the bowls of warm soup and dumping them down on Zayn’s jeans all the while Zayn madly screaming and hands close to his face, as if touching them but not quite.

Niall shook off his plaid shirt, remaining with the white shirt underneath, and gently patted it on his face. Mel came running, wondering what the commotion was all about in the outside part of the (soup) restaurant.

“What’s going on? What happened?”

“Get him!” Niall growled at the young man who poured soup on Zayn. “And a bowl of cold water.”

He went back to patting down on Zayn’s face, murmuring soothing words to his small cries.

“Niall?”

“Don’t open your eyes,” he ordered.

“Need to see. Need to see, please,” Zayn pleaded.

“M’right here,” promised Niall, “promise. Not going anywhere but I need you to close your eyes.”

Zayn’s fingers fiddled around his middle until the grabbed a fistful of his shirt and held onto it, tightly as if his life depended on it. Niall inched closer; his hands smoothing his hair silky back as his other patted his face dry. Finally, Melica came with the bowl of cold water.

“We caught the guy. What do we do?”

“I’ll deal with him. Later, though.”

Mel nodded. “Course. Need anything?”

“Less people staring, please.”

“On it, Ni!”

Niall dabbed the cold cloth on Zayn’s face as the waiters of the soup restaurant dispatched the crowd away from Ziall, giving them privacy but the prying eyes they could not stop. They, however, could stop people from recording on their phones as Niall cooled Zayn’s face. He dipped the cold cloth back, his white tee stretching from Zayn’s death grip, and came closer to dab his face.

Zayn leaned forward to Niall’s stomach, the feel of his forehead pressed to his diaphragm and the hand around his hips tugging down on his white shirt. It began slow, Zayn’s fingers bunching Niall’s shirt, his shoulders shaking and the whole of Zayn’s face pressing deep to Niall’s stomach.

He felt wet on his white Tee and then the sounds hit him. Zayn was weeping into his shirt, face completely covered. Niall wrapped his arms around him, embracing him fondly, and his fingers carding through his burgundy-colored hair.

Those around them could not help but look, lay their eyes upon them. Zayn’s inked arms were tight around Niall’s hips, could see where he was gripping the shirt in his fist, and the weeps that could be heard from any of them were seated.

Niall was whispering something to him but that only seemed to increase his weeps. So Niall pulled back a bit and sunk face-to-face with him, knees on the grass. He palmed his wet cheeks but not before wiping them clean, but no use because Zayn’s cheeks were freshly wet. Niall’s thumbs kept wiping his tears below his damp eyelashes which were tightly shirt but the corners were wet.

Niall’s lips were moving, looking worriedly at Zayn, his hand occasionally on the nape of his neck, soothing him, until Zayn opened his eyes. He kept talking in a low voice as Zayn’s eyes were trained on Niall and no one else. Zayn listened to him, taking in Niall’s words, and his hands came to his own face and covered Niall’s which were on his wet cheeks.

Zayn shook his head then, seemingly to have stopped crying by now, and Niall chuckled, eyes bright gazing at the Bradford boy. He was talking now, to what seemed like a tale because his lips did not stop moving but whatever he was saying seemed to work as Zayn was now just gazing at him, tears and what he was crying about forgotten.

For the moment.

“Um, Ni?” Niall turned to Mel standing close to them. “The coast is clear.”

Niall nodded. “C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he said to Zayn with the utmost softness and fluff in his voice.

Rubbing his eyes, he shyly said, “I messed this u—”

“No!”

“But I did—”

“Did you get him?” asked Niall and Mel nodded, stating the police had come and would be held for 24 hours. “Good. I’ll go down to the police station tomorrow.”

“We packed the soup,” said Mel and Niall could not help but smile at her.

“You’re the best, Mel,” he said as he kissed her cheek which both turned red at the touch. “Always.”

“Take care of yourself,” she said to him and to Zayn: “We hope we haven’t created a bad memory of this place for you. Give us another chance, we’ll show you we’re nice people.”

“I believe that,” murmured Zayn.

The car ride was quiet, save for _Blue Neighbourhood_ playing on the radio, and Niall stole quick glances Zayn’s way. He was seated with his head away from Niall, leaning against the window, his arms wrapped around his knees that were pressed to his chest. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. It was not fair, obviously life was not fair but still, it was not fair.

It was not fair that people were still horrible to Zayn, that Zayn still had to _apologize_ for what he did a year ago, for doing something that gave him peace. Who knew what this was doing to him? If exhaustion was not crippling him, it was the constant backlash and hate handed and thrown at him and, _oh dear_ , he did not once defend himself.

How could he, though? Niall thought, stopping at a red light. How could Zayn defend himself against all of it when a large part of himself began to think he was at fault for March 25th and everything that came thereafter?

Niall started when light feather touch brushed on his arm, down to his wrist. He looked down to find Zayn’s fingers wrapped around the small of his wrist, his tattoo of lips smoking staring up at him. He gazed to Zayn who was looking to him, he could not read anything from him except that he looked so, so small and exhausted. He twisted his wrist, Zayn loosening his grip and then threaded their fingers together.

He stepped on the accelerator, one hand on the wheel, the other with Zayn, and drove all the way to his house. Zayn stepped out of his Range even before he parked properly. He walked into the house bumping into a full face of Eleanor.

“Ow! Why you standing at the door for?”

She looked furious. “What the fuck did you do to Zayn?”

“Not me,” he huffed, stepping round her to head to his bedroom upstairs where he was sure Zayn was packing for his flight.

“Nah-uh.” Eleanor stepped forward, blocking his view. “You’re telling me what’s wrong! I swear if you hurt him….”

“I didn’t, El,” he said, sounding irritated. “It was some stupid guy who dropped hot soup on his face in front of everyone at the restaurant then, even before I could react, he picked up his bowl of soup and poured it all over his clothes.”

Eleanor’s jaw dropped to the ground. “Shit!”

“Mel, God bless her, brought a bowl of cold water which I used to cool his face but,” he ran his fingers through his blond/brunette hair, “he started crying and I tried calming him down but he was still crying and it felt like he was crying for something else other than the soup.”

“Well, of course,” she chided him. “He’s got the world draining him and it’s catching up to him.”

“M’scared for him,” he confessed with a low tone.

Eleanor closed the distance and hugged him tightly. “I’ll make the gummy bears for him and you go check up on him. Just red right?”

Niall nodded. “Thanks, El.”

He opened the door to his bedroom finding Zayn sitting on his bed hunched forward. He looked around finding clothes thrown all over the floor, his suitcase against his wardrobe looking as if it was thrown there and what looked like several broken bottles of cologne.

Niall was secretly praying it was not his Hugo Boss cologne. He truthfully did not know what to say so he picked the suitcase and dropped it next to Zayn who only then did he look up and turned to see Niall smiling weakly at him.

He packed his suitcase, taking the clothes off the floor and the shoes and everything else. One by one, he rolled them and stuffed them in his suitcase, squeezing them in as if was fast filling up.

“… and that is why Jupiter is named after Zeus, the god  and ruler of the Sky and Olympians,” he finished as he also finished packing.

“Didn’t know you were a fan of Greek mythology,” Zayn mumbled.

“Not me, Eleanor,” he commented.

Suddenly Zayn got off his bed and walked towards his closet. “Do you wear all of these?”

“Y-yeah. Why?”

He did not respond but instead took off shirts off their hangers, two, three, purple ones, red ones, one which had a large four-leaf clover on it (that Niall secretly cringed whenever he wore it), seven of them, some with the Guinness logo that he proudly won, and then threw them on top of his clothes in the suitcase.

“I have more clothes,” he felt like he needed to mention it. Or to break the silence. “More shirts.”

“These will be enough,” he said closing his suitcase.

So that was that, and it was time to go to the airport. Niall let Eleanor drive, or more like she bullied him to let her drive (“As long as you have your licence!” he warned) as they both sat in the backseat.

“Thanks for the gummy bears, Calder,” hummed Zayn happily. Eleanor had given him a medium-sized bag of just red gummy bears.

“No biggie, Malik.”

“Here,” motioned Zayn for Niall to take some. He shook his head but gave in when Zayn jutted his bottom lip out, pouting with kitten eyes. Speaking of kittens…

“Did you finally give a name to the kitten I gave you?”

“Malfoy.”

“Malfoy?” parroted Zayn and Eleanor grunted from the front of the car. “As in Draco _Malfoy_?”

Zayn nodded. “It was a male kitten, F.Y.I, not female.”

“Malfoy? But you don’t like Harry Potter!”

“You do,” he said, chewing on a couple of his gummy bears. Niall smiled shyly under Zayn’s gaze, his cheeks as red as the gummy bears Zayn was eating but was thankful it was dark in the car and dark outside.

He turned his head away from Zayn, unable to stop his mouth from smiling any wider. “My Ravenclaw.”

Lips pressed to his jawline and words whispered, “My Slytherin.”

“Oh great! Now there’s _two_ of them!” groaned Eleanor.  


**~  ~  *  ~  ~**  


**HARRY:** PLEASE NIALL!

 **HARRY:** Just apologize to Louis and then this whole fight will be over.

 **HARRY:** You know better than anyone else that Louis has a huge ego and is WAITING for you to apologize.

 **HARRY:** Or stop being Zayn’s friend.

 **HARRY:** WE are your friends. Or so I thought. You even got Liam on your side, but he seems to be on the fence.

 **HARRY:** The 4 of us are breaking apart all because YOU wanted to be friends with him.

 **HARRY:** CUT IT OFF! This has been going on for far too long.

 **HARRY:** Niall, please.

Niall rolled his eyes and left him on Read. He left a lot of people on Read nowadays what with them not exactly saying anything meaningful to him. He scrolled some more, leaving more and more people on Read and wondered since when did he have all these people conversing with on WhatsApp.

Instead of leaving people just on Read, he deleted their conversations. For some reason, ever since the horrible vomiting incident at Zayn’s house, more of Zayn’s cousins followed him and were all for chatting with him. Granted, he did not know close to 85% of them, then 10% of them just wanted to say hello, and actually talked to 5% of them. One of them included Hadiyya who he liked since day one because she was one of those who were actually nice to him that day.

 **HADIYYA:** how did the meeting with timothy schmit go?

Timothy Schmit was an ex-member of the famous 80s band, The Eagles. He thought, along with Steve, it would be a sick idea to have his favourite band on his album. Unfortunately, that would not be possible seeing as in the beginning of this century there were spats between The Eagles’ members, what with one leaving, others suing others, and they called it quits. So, with help from Steve he managed to get a hold of Timothy and he told him about his 2018 album and his theme, what he wanted on there, and Timothy loved the idea.

 **HADIYYA:** hope it went well and you didn’t shit your pants ahaha!

 **HADIYYA:** zayn told me that you have a huge crush on troye sivan & if you ever met him you would shit your pants aha

 **HADIYYA:** i see you’re online… finally

 **NIALL:** I WOULD NOT SHIT MY PANTS!!! NIAZ’S A LIAR!

 **NIALL:** Troye Sivan is a beautiful human being, in & out, and U’d have to be on some EPIC level to breath near him or else U’d be like a bike next to a Beemer.

 **HADIYYA:** you call zayn “niaz”? weirdo!!!

 **NIALL:** I did meet with Timothy & it went great ! The rest of the song is done just missing on the chorus which we should be meeting this weekend to finalize on things.

 **NIALL:** He’s a funny guy, BTW !

 **HADIYYA:** really?

 **NIALL:** He has those “dad jokes” which R quite funny.

 **HADIYYA:** you have no humor, n. now it’ll get worse when you’re hanging out with grandpa!

 **NIALL:** He’s not that old, H.

 **NIALL:** & stop typing in small caps.

 **HADIYYA:** does it bother you?

 **NIALL:** Sort of. Though URE not as bad as Payno Who Types Like This …

 **HADIYYA:** i should type like that :}

 **NIALL:** URE impossible!

 **HADIYYA:** did you see my 1 republic video?

 **NIALL:** “Let’s Not Hurt Tonight”?

 **HADIYYA:** yeah…

 **NIALL:** ‘If this love is pain then, darling, let’s hurt tonight’

 **HADIYYA:** THAT’S THE ONE!!! DO YOU LOVE IT?

 **NIALL:** I do ! I actually do. For someone who types in lowercase you sure have good taste in music.

 **HADIYYA:** >:{ i have brilliant music taste!

 **NIALL:** That’s what I said.

 **HADIYYA:** ANYWAY, have you heard of Skylar Grey?

 **NIALL:** No.  
  


He knew the moment he typed those words in the next three hours he would be receiving a multitude of music videos of this Skylar Grey person. This is what the both of them did, recommended music to each other, mostly Hadiyya, and talk of Niall’s upcoming album, the ins and outs of it, while on her end she would tell him of University life and how waking up is the worst part of Uni life. And being broke.  
  


**HADIYYA:** expect links coming your way…

 **NIALL:** Did not expect anything else ;)

 **NIALL:** Why Let’s Hurt Tonight ??

 **HADIYYA:** i broke up with my boyfriend back in january and we had been dating for close to three years. we would fight like normal couples, make-up after but lately, towards the end of our relationship, we stopped talking.

 **HADIYYA:** we needed to talk, it was part of a relationship to talk about things, but we never did. he would roll his eyes when i suggested, walked away saying ‘next time’ but next time never came.

 **NIALL:** Should’ve given him an ultimatum.

 **HADIYYA:** i did. it began to feel like i was the only one who cared about this r/ship, about us, so one day i told him we should meet on friday to just talk. he agreed which was SHOCKING

 **NIALL:** Course. He’d been avoiding U..

 **HADIYYA:** it was not even 3 minutes that we were screaming our heads off and something clicked in me. i shouldn’t be doing this to myself, and i won’t let some boy treat me this way. so i told him we’re through.

 **HADIYYA:** do you know what he told me?

 **NIALL:** What ?

 **HADIYYA:** “Why? We are doing so well, love.”

 **NIALL:** WTF!?

 **HADIYYA:** right?

 **NIALL:** You walked off…???

 **HADIYYA:** slammed the bloody door!!

 **NIALL:** AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 **HADIYYA:** and now he’s calling me, non-stop, begging that we should work it out, that we should talk.

 **NIALL:** Who’s this guy anyway?

 **HADIYYA:** No one important.

 **NIALL:** Mohammed ?

 **NIALL:** Riwani ?

 **NIALL:** Abdul ?

 **NIALL:** Ahmed ?

 **NIALL:** Jawaad ?

 **HADIYYA** : ew! that’s my uncle!!

 **NIALL:** What’s his name then?

 **HADIYYA:** joshua.  
  


Niall face palmed himself. Way to be stereotypical!  
  


**HADIYYA:** just because i’m muslim doesn’t mean i should date JUST muslims, n.

 **NIALL:** My bad !

 **HADIYYA:** i keep telling him that we’re over but he won’t listen and now i’ve blocked him on all social media but idk how to block someone on phone.

 **NIALL:** Next time this fucker texts you, you tell me, or better yet gimme me his number :)

 **HADIYYA:** you will not threaten him!! zayn, jawaad and doniya said the same thing.

 **NIALL:** Not threats… ;)

 **HADIYYA:** then what exactly?

 **NIALL:** Tell him URE dating me.

 **NIALL:** I’ll even send selfies of myself to make it seem real.

 **HADIYYA:** are you joking?

 **NIALL:** No.

 **HADIYYA:** can i?

 **NIALL:** Yeah. What sort of selfies do you think will make Joshua jealous?

 **HADIYYA:** sexy ones + goofy too.  
  


Niall sent several ones, not bothered at all by the fact she was Zayn’s niece. If she was cool, so was he.

 **NIALL:** Don’t forget to unlock him or else he won’t see the photos.

 **HADIYYA:** shit! didn’t even think of that.

 **NIALL:** We need to take a selfies together to make it believable. One for Instagram, don’t you think?

 **HADIYYA:** no! i couldn’t make you do that. your ig account is personal

 **NIALL:** I want to :)

 **HADIYYA:** but you said you’re only posting photos of important people on your ig and one with me will ruin that.

 **NIALL:** But you are important…

It took a while before Hadiyya was typing again.

 **HADIYYA:** alright. where are you, anyway?

 **NIALL:** Right now I’m at Etihad Stadium but generally in London for a few days before heading to New Delhi.

 **HADIYYA:** why?

 **NIALL:** I’m promoting my single…

 **HADIYYA:** i meant why at the stadium!

 **NIALL:** Oh! I’m watching Liam train.

 **HADIYYA:** because that’s not strange…  
  


Now that Niall read his message again, it probably did but really it was not that. Liam said that he could come to the training ground and meet a couple of the Chelsea players and later go for drinks. Who was he to say _no_?  
  


**NIALL:** Why were you asking?

 **HADIYYA:** i am in ldn for a few days and was wondering if we could meet up and take those selfies.

 **NIALL:** Course. You free tomorrow?

 **HADIYYA:** yep.  
  


The following day he met up with Hadiyya in central London. They frequented restaurants, shops, streets, anywhere it was deemed ‘selfie-worthy to make an ex-boyfriend jealous’ which to be fair, would work with just a selfie of Hadiyya with another boy by her arms judging by Joshua’s personality.

Hadiyya picked the one Niall was to put on Instagram which he did with several bow-through-the-heart emojis which he was sure would work. Hadiyya herself unblocked Joshua on her social accounts and bombarded everywhere with selfies of her and Niall, and on Snapchat videos of them together. It not only worked on Joshua but other people as well, questioning what this was and if Niall had a new girlfriend.  
  


**NIAZ:** HANDS OFF MY NIECE!!!

**_NIAZ has changed the name of the group from “zayn is niaz” to “KEEP OF HADI”._ **

**EL:** Seriously? This does not warrant a group name change, Malik!

 **PAYNO:** This Reminds Me Of That Time When Harry Would Get Pissed Whenever Nialler Pretended To Love Gemma.

 **NIAZ:** Was it really pretend? He seemed serious.

 **EL:** Niall’s joking, Malik. Trust.

 **EL:** Or Is He? He Was Pretty Serious With Gemma, Even Took Her To This Expensive Restaurant Where You Need A Booking 3 Months In Advance.

 **NIAZ:** WHEN WAS THIS?

 **EL:** To this day I’m pissed he’s never taken me there.

 **PAYNO:** Take Yourself.

 **EL:** It’s for the rich and famous, Liam!!

 **NIAZ:** Shit….

 **NIAZ:** NIALL!!! GET ONLINE!!

 **NIAZ:** KEEP AWAY FROM HADI

 **PAYNO:** Who Cares About You El! They Were Pretty Close During The Date And Gemma Says To This Day It’s Still One Of Her Best Dates.

 **NIALL:** I had a wonderful time with Gemz that day.

 **EL:** Gemz?

 **PAYNO:** They Have Nicknames For Each Other Too.

 **NIAZ:** NIALL!! YOU ARE NOT DATING MY NIECE!! TAKE THAT INSTAGRAM PHOTO DOWN!

 **NIALL:** Chill NIAZ KILAM ! I am not dating Hadiyya. We’re making her boyfriend jealous.

 **EL:** Who’s the bf?

 **NIAZ:** Joshua Ahmed.

 **NIALL:** THAT’S HIS NAME??? AHAHAHA I WAS RIGHT ! I WAS RIGHT ! I WAS RIGHT !

 **PAYNO:** How?

 **NIALL:** Hadiyya said I should stop being stereotypical because she is a Muslim but look! His name is AHMED!!

 **EL:** *rolls eyes*

 **NIAZ:** Did it work? Is Joshua ‘jealous’?

 **NIALL:** Yep ! We spent the whole day together, trying to think of ways to make him jealous &  we ended having more fun than we thought.

 **EL:** Awww

 **PAYNO:** That’s Sweet!

 **NIAZ:** Not sweet, Liam. Weird. Please tell me you are not dating her… in any parallel universe, including this one.

 **NIALL:** Promise, Zaynie. Plus she’s too young.

 **EL:** If she was the right age? Like a year younger?

 **PAYNO:** Ahaha & Wasn’t Related To Zayn In Anyway?

 **NIAZ:** What are you implying, Calder?

 **NIALL:** Well… you can’t stop a man’s heart when it decides on what it wants ;)

**_El has changed the subject of the group from “KEEP OF HADI” to “NADIYYA”._ **

**PAYNO:** LMAO!

 **NIAZ:** Calder, I am going to kill you.

 **NIALL:** But Nadiyya is so sweet. Beautiful. Or Hiall.

 **EL:** YUCK!

 **PAYNO:** DISAGREE! Sounds Like A Painful Sexual Disease.

 **NIAZ:** Are you calling my niece a sexual disease?

 **NIAZ:** Cannot believe I just typed that.

 **NIAZ:** Grossing myself out!

 **NIALL:** Have you noticed how easy Zayno grosses out?

 **EL:** HAHAHAHAH YES!!

 **PAYNO:** How?

 **NIAZ:** Don’t!

 **NIALL:** We were watching OITNB last week & El + I thought of making a used panties business and Zayn was gagging the entire time!!

 **NIAZ:** I am literally leaving this group.

 **NIALL:** Wanna join Payno?

 **LIAM:** Sure If There’s Cash In It

 **EL:** Yes! Now we’re a 3.5-people business (the .5 is for Zayn)

 **NIAZ:** I am 100% NOT in the business.

 **NIALL:** You need to have 2 people for the “panty” part.

 **EL:** Niall & I already have 2 people, now you Liam…

 **PAYNO:** What Does That Mean? Like Me And Someone Else?

 **NIAZ:** Can we not?

 **NIALL:** You need ANY 2 people to wear the underwear

 **PAYNO:** Oh! Then I’m OUT! I’ll Look For Two People Then.

 **EL:** AHHAHAH AND LIAM VOLUNTEERED HIMSELF!!

 **NIALL:** I KNOW RIGHT AHAHAHAHA !!!

 **NIAZ:** Liam, you are not serious, are you?

 **PAYNO:** Me Wearing The Underwear And Selling It To Strangers, No, But ME In The Business Yes. There’s A Lot Of Cash In It Zayn.

 **PAYNO:** Join Us Zayn :]

 **EL:** YESSS1!! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASEEEE

 **NIAZ:** No.

 **NIALL:** It’s going to be loadsa fun, Zed.

 **PAYNO:** Zed? Why Not Just Type The Letter Z?

 **EL:** He’s trying to find a nickname for Zayn……. SINCE JANUARY!!!

 **NIAZ:** He is failing.

 **NIALL:** AM NOT!

 **NIALL:** Anyway, talk later. Meeting with David Yates now.

 **EL:** Good luck Ni. Sending lots of love!!!

 **NIALL:** M’not dying, El.

 **PAYNO:** Just A Meeting!!

 **NIAZ:** Hope you get the part (:

 

Niall for the last several days had been meeting with several movie directors that would like him to make a soundtrack for their movies. Several of them called him up, actually plenty of them, and the whole of this week, and next week if his luck was anything to go by, would be continuously in meetings and more meetings.

So far this week he has met with Directors of various films set to come out in the second half of the year and they are _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ (he practically drooled the whole meeting with David Yates and his A &R), _Passengers_ ,   _La La Land_ (he had a right laugh with Damien Chazelle, the Director) , _Hidden Figures_ , _Collateral Beauty_ (Niall will never admit it but he teared up when David Frankel was narrating him the meaning behind the film) and _Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates_.

Others he rejected because either he did not understand the film, did not like the Directors, or simply did not want to write a soundtrack for the film. He could do this now, his mind told him, he was working for Steve Fucking Barnett not Simon Cowell.

Waiting in the Reception area, he was about to meet with the absolute legend David Yates (again, this time him alone), a.k.a the one and only Director who filmed the last four of the Harry Potter films and recently _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. And _now_ – Niall could barely contain his excitement – his next project was _The Legend of Tarzan_ and Niall knew in his heart that it was going to be a fantastic film when it was set to release in July 1 st.

The meeting went beyond Niall’s wildest imaginations. Niall James Horan, as of right now, was going to be the composer of the film _The Legend of Tarzan_. His mind was still reeling that he had to sit down and catch his breath. David Yates had loved the song he did for Fantastic Beasts and if it had been up to him he would have wanted Niall to compose the entire soundtrack but.

But now because Yates was _David Yates_ , Niall was in charge and responsible for the music of the film. He was to design music from scratch! For an entire film!

He did not know where to begin! He was a simple teenager from the small town of Mullingar and loved football and guitar and One Direction, not a composer! That was what Yates said to him, that he was a composer and if all else failed (he subtly hinted about the hiatus of One Direction) he should consider being a composer. He chuckled, feeling flustered and tongue-tied, but managed to state that Horans were lawyers and not, well, composers.

Now, on his flight to New Delhi in business class with Eleanor sleeping next to him, he was still buzzing. His buzzing halted for a moment. It was May. The film was airing on July 1st. Technically, by end of June which meant the entire movie should be ready a month before, meaning next month, which meant Niall should be done with the music by, well, _this month_. And it was the second week of May.

He cursed loudly, then darted his eyes round to see if anyone heard him.

Yates had told him all about the film, as well as the little details of it for Niall to get a good grasps on it. He promised Niall would find the third draft of the film by the time his flight landed in New Delhi.

“I can hear your brain frying.”

Niall smirked, not bothering tear his eyes away from the documentary about chickens he had not been watching to know she was awake and rolling her eyes. “Smells like bacon, innit?”

“More like unseasoned chicken.”

“Har har. Didn’t know you were a comedian!”  


**~ ~ * ~ ~**  


****

**JAWAAD:** 911!!

 **JAWAAD:** Call me as soon as you get this message!  
  


Niall chuckled. If Jawaad was anything it was perpetually broke. However, he found two more messages that made his heart stop.  
  


**JAWAAD:** It’s about Zayn.

 **JAWAAD:** He’s in the hospital.

He cursed as he hit the Call button. One ring, three rings, where the bloody hell was Jawaad?, five rings, six… eight. The phone went dead and Niall quickly redialled. One, two, four, convenient how whenever he called Jawaad decided to never pick up the pho—

_Hello?_

“Fucking finally! Where was your phone?”

_It was on silent. What’s this number?_

“It’s India,” he snapped. “What happened to Zayn?”

_Oh. Eh, just a minute._

Jawaad put Niall on hold as a classic tune began playing and Niall breathed in, and then out, thoughts of skinning him alive playing vividly in his mind.

_Alright._

“Why the fuck did you put me on hold?”

_Had to get away from the family. I’m currently at the hospital._

“What happened?” he asked, impatiently.

_Well, we were all hanging out at Gigi’s apartment in New York, right? Nothing too big, just a child hangout. Then Zayn began asking for drink requests and who are we to say no?_

Niall began tapping the tile with his fingers, wanting Jawaad to speed up his story to the part where Zayn ended up in a hospital.

_So we requested. I got a Martini—_

“Nobody cares, _Jaweed_! Moving on.”

_You know that’s not funny and it never will._

“Jaweed is the most hilarious name I can think of. What happened?”

_Like I was saying, he was making us drinks. Then as he was making Layla’s drink, he collapsed?... Fainted. He fainted. Thankfully, Kareem knew First Aid so he did First Aid on him for someone who’s fainted and Gigi said that this has been happening lately and that we shouldn’t worry._

“Fuck Gigi!” he cursed and realized he said it aloud, on the phone, to Jawaad.

_You don’t like her?_

He sounded surprised but this was not the time! “No. What the fuck happened next?”

_It was like four minutes later and Zayn wasn’t waking up. I asked Kareem if this was normal and he said at most it should be four, five minutes before they wake up. Gigi insisted he always woke up so we waited._

“Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t wait for someone to wake up who has been fainting occasionally and has been unconscious for more than five minutes!”

_You knew?_

“Yes. How didn’t you know?”

_Why didn’t you say anything?_

“I told Hadiyya and Walihya. What happened next?”

_I told Kareem to feel his pulse and you could see him grow fearful. He said his pulse was faint, and I immediately called the ambulance. The paramedics came in, clearing everyone away from Zayn for some air—_

There was a sharp intake of breath and Niall did not know if it was him or Jawaad. He held onto his Samsung tightly as Jawaad continued.

_They started asking us if this was normal, what he had been taking, if he had been experiencing stress lately… and I couldn’t answer any of the questions. Thankfully Rana was there and she said that he had been feeling tired, but that was it._

“Gigi knew he had been taking energy pills. She fucking knew and she didn’t say anything?”

 _You knew? Anyway, we knew that after when he parademics found bunch of pills in his pocket. I was just worried that Zayn wasn’t waking up_ – here his voice was watery over the phone – and I didn’t understand what they were saying but all I got was that his heart rate was low, very, very low.

Niall swallowed the lump in his throat.

_I rode in with him in the ambulance along with Rana._

“Where was Gigi?”

_She said she would drive everyone else to the hospital. The paramedics kept working on him, Rana silently crying beside me, I didn’t know what to think. I’ve never seen him this unconscious, never seen him with his eyes closed for this long apart from when he’s sleeping._

“You’re an asshole!”

Jawaad ignored the comment _. It was easy to think that he was just sleeping, that he was tired, but the sounds of your niece crying besides you and the voices of paramedics talking quickly like nothing was going right changes your thoughts._

“Hospital?” he prompted, swallowing the larger-than-life lump in his throat.

_He was rushed somewhere, off, I don’t know. So we waited. Gigi came, along with the family, and we were told to wait. I called everyone, including his parents, who flew in the next day along with his sisters._

“What did the doctors say?” asked Niall, the heavy question he had been dreading.

_Dr Charlie said he had been taking quite a number of pills, more than the subscribed. He thinks that Zayn thought the more pills he took, the more energy he would have, or some shit like that._

Jawaad talked some more, about Tricia crying, of Walihya muttering that she should’ve done something, of Yaser sitting by Zayn’s hospital bed and never moving, but he was not listening. The only person he was thinking of right now was that scumbag of Zayn’s girlfriend. She knew, she knew this was happening, she knew, and she did nothing. More than thrice Zayn had been fainting and he asked her, severally, to take her to the hospital. He told Hadiyya but she said Zayn was constantly on the move it was hard to get him.

And now. Oh now, here he was, exhaustion catching up to him and his mother’s words were right. Ma had said that he was setting fires to keep the people around him warm, burning himself to draw a smile on everyone’s face, and now he had and fuck knows how no one saw it coming.

“Shut up for a second!” he gritted his teeth and Jawaad shut up. “Is he awake?”

_Yeah. Woke up this morning._

“And you’re calling me now?” he all but yelled on the phone.

_He specifically asked not to call you._

He was taken aback. “Why?”

_Said you’d be worried._

“Of course I’d be worried,” he shouted on the phone. “Unlike ungrateful asses like all of you I am worried as fuck for him!”

_We are, too. Stop blaming us, Niall. You’re—_

“You’re with him longer than me and you should’ve seen how tired he was constantly.”

_So are you. Whenever he comes over to your place—_

“I made him sleep because I could see beyond his tired smile, his slumped shoulders, how his eyes would close and then rapidly open and look around to see if anyone saw. Of course no one bloody saw but I did. So whenever he came over to my place I made sure he did nothing but slept. What have you done?” he challenged.

_You’re lucky I even called you or else I wouldn’t have. So stop shouting at me._

“But this is bloody Zayn, Jawaad. This is him downplaying everything like always; he makes everyone think it doesn’t matter when it’s hurting him.”

_Stop yelling, Niall!_

“Fine, fine. Sorry,” he muttered but did not mean it at all. He was still seething, his fists opening and closing in on themselves.

_Dr Charlie said he should spend more time in the hospital so he’ll be here for a week…_

Niall thought he was hinting at something but his anger-fuelled brain was not registering it. “Of course he should be because he’s been exhausted this whole time this is his one chance to—”

 _He’ll kill me if he knows I called you… and Gigi has a photoshoot with_ Marie Claire _this week… it’s only his parents and Doniya at the hospital—_

“What are you hinting at Jawaad?”

_You said my name correctly._

“ _Jaweed_ ,” he warned.

_Come see him._

Niall could not up and leave to go see Zayn, not anymore could he. Ever since his stunt with Vogue, despite it going well for him publicity-wise, professionally it put him in a bad light and therefore he had to finish his business wherever he was which meant until Friday – three more days – before he could go and see Zayn. He explained all this to him.

_But you’re Niall Horan._

Niall rolled his eyes. “Not that easy anymore. When is he being discharged?”

_You need to come before._

“Why?”

_Don’t you know?... He needs you here, Niall._

“When?”

_Sunday._

“I’ll be there Saturday morning, afternoon latest.”

_Good._

For the next three days, he constantly texted and called Jawaad and the others on updates on Zayn. He was doing better, though spending most of his time sleeping but apparently Zayn was a light sleeper (something even his mother did not know) so he woke up easily. Dr Charlie refused to give him sleeping pills stating they would not help as what Zayn need was his beauty rest. Natural beauty rest, he advised.

On social media, people got wind of everything mainly because of the Instagram post of Gigi lying on Zayn’s hospital bed and making duck faces with him. On Twitter, Directioners and the ZQUAD asked him if Zayn was really okay, and what happened that he was hospitalized. He could not reply to them, not after seeing Zayn could he.  


**Zayner @ZiallxGolf**  
_@NiallJHoran please go visit @zaynmalik in the hospital! I’m sure he’d love to see you there_  
  


And Niall Liked the tweet, a soft smile on his lips. He ignored the Larry accounts, including Harry and Louis themselves, but it was hard when Harry was posting countless photos of Louis with his baby, Freddie, or Louis posting videos of him and Harry on their 2,849th date.

Friday could not come any faster but it did and Niall was practically dragging Eleanor out of their Hilton hotel, to the airport and then, after landing at Heathrow, dragged her to their Gate. Eleanor huffed at him and said they had a good five hours before their flight to JFK Airport and that she would be leaving to go buy perfume so he needed to calm down. Niall suspected she was sick of hearing him tell her they had to get to New York fast, fast, fast.

Finally, the five hours were up, a few fans spotting them to which he waved as he ran away from them (which would have been comical if one was a third party watching) and rushed to his First Class seat. To distract himself, he watched movies, ate to his fill, binged on Oreos to keep his mouth from uttering how many hours they had left to landing (or simply poking Eleanor and telling her nonsensical facts), and he even began watching the news.

The news!

Niall was now fidgeting. He was bouncing his leg, turning his head from side-to-side, making tiny whining noises that Eleanor smacked his head with his remote.

“Stop that! Sleep. Or something!”

“Can’t,” he whined. “Too nervous. I’m seeing him—in three hours!”

He practically bounced out of his seat when the Captain said they had arrived and wished them a good day. He raced down, stopping a few times to let Eleanor catch up, and together they ran, and ran, and forgot their luggage in Baggage Claim but one call and Someone-or-other was going to get their luggage for them. They hoped into a taxi and headed straight for Zayn’s hospital.

Niall threw the money at the taxi driver, 35 dollars extra, and pushed Eleanor out of the taxi, to _hurry up El!_ At the reception he asked what room Zayn was but he was not allowed in seeing as Visitor’s Hours were between 11A.M. – 4P.M. and it was currently ten-oh-three.

“Call Jawaad or anyone!”

“My phone’s dead,” he grunted. “The one time I want my pho—”

He was cut short with Eleanor calling out Hadiyya’s name. She was entering the hospital, with a bag of what looked like donuts.

“Hadiyya!”

“Eleanor!” she beamed, upon seeing them.

“Where’s Zayn?” he asked, watching them hug for what seemed like centuries to Niall when really it was half a second.

“Rude!”

“Don’t care,” he told Eleanor and asked Hadiyya the floor.

“Room 7, floor 14.”

Niall left before she could add anything else which would be a waste of time for him anyway. He pressed the elevator button, once, thrice, five times it was still not coming. He tapped his foot waiting for it. He must have been there long enough because Eleanor and Hadiyya caught up with him.

“Slow and steady wins the ace,” mused Eleanor.

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpanned, finger on the elevator button.

“Pressing it won’t make it come faster,” pointed Hadiyya.

“Didn’t think you’re an architect,” said Niall. “So you don’t know how elevators work.”

“Thought the Horans were lawyers not architects?”

“We’re everything including impatient—Where the fuck is this elevator?” he growled, slamming his hand on the elevator button couple of times.

Ignoring him, Hadiyya turned to Eleanor, “How was your flight?”

“It was good. Would’ve been better if someone wasn’t moaning the whole way through.”

Niall rolled his eyes, facing the door of the silver lifts.

Hadiyya chuckled. “Pity! After you can come with me back to our place for a nap.”

“Thanks but we’ve booked a Suite at the Hilton.”

“But that doesn’t sound homey at all, you’ve got to come stay with us.”

“Who’s here?” interjected Niall. He might as well make conversation if the lift was not coming.

“Me, Jawaad, Gigi who stepped out for a bit with Layla, Husna, couple of other people you don’t know. Why?”

He looked back to the lift doors. “Just asking.”

“He asked for you,” said Hadiyya.

“He did?” he asked, all traces of irritation gone from his voice.

“Then he said we shouldn’t call you, didn’t want to worry you. I think he was scared of telling you more than his mom and dad.”

Niall frowned at her. “Why?”

“If you honestly don’t know,” Eleanor spoke before Hadiyya could, “then Hadi shouldn’t tell you.”

Niall responded by punching the lift button again. He heaved a sigh of relief when there was a ding from the lifts and he pushed his way in as people got out. He slammed the Number 14 and kept breathing in, out, in, out slowly when the lift kept stopping. It stopped on 3, then on 6, then immediately 7, 8, then 10, and 11 to which at this point he was dancing round the idea of getting off and running up the stairs but the lift doors were closing and stopping at 13. He groaned loud enough for people in the lift to turn and look at him but Eleanor was the only one giggling behind her moisturized hand.

He sprinted out of the elevator as soon as the doors were sliding open and raced down to Door 7. Eleanor and Hadiyya were walking down the corridor. He wiped his clammy hands down his khakis which he has worn well over 14 hours now but who cares, he had to see Zayn.

He opened the door and he seemed to interrupt something as suddenly the room was quiet. All heads turned to him, including Zayn’s which lifted off the pillow slightly and back down but his eyes were as wide as golf balls.

“Everybody out,” he announced. No one moved. “I said, everybody out!”

Still, no one moved. It was only when Zayn said something in Arabic (or Urdu Niall does not know the difference. Still) that they reluctantly got up and started making their way to the door which Niall was generously holding open for them. He shut it as the last person walked through and locked the door.

Neither of them uttered a word but Zayn had his eyes strained on Niall, taking his appearance in, his worn out shoes, his wrinkled shorts, plain grey shirt and messy hair that looked slept on. _Uh oh_ , did he come from the airport?

“Did you just get here?”

“Straight from the airport,” answered Niall, standing by his bed. He took it all in, machines to his left, needles poking through him that were a stark contrast to his wonderful art on his skin, and not forgetting him donned in a hospital gown and the constant beeps going off. There were places where Zayn should be seen such as on stage, in a studio, at a tattoo shop, wherever he called home, but a hospital was not one of them. And it should never be.

“Is your head working fine?”

“My head?” Zayn asked, confused.

“Yes, head.”

“It’s fin—Ouch!”

Niall slapped his head, some of his pent down anger seeping through. “I’m so mad at you but relieved at the same time.”

“Sorry.”

“Bullshit!”

“So you heard?”

“Care to explain what the fuck happened?” Zayn looked to his right, not focusing on anything, as long as he was not looking at Niall’s direction. “An explanation would be lovely, Zayn.”

Zayn turned on hearing his name. Niall never called him by his name, always stuck on finding him a nickname. “I can’t remember,” he said, weak, “it’s true though because I wa—”

“Unconscious? Yeah, Jawaad told me as much and I figured as much. Do you know how long you were out for? Did the doctors tell you anything?”

“A bit,” he said surprised by Niall’s growing voice.

“Apparently all those times I told you about your exhaustion fell on death ears,” he paused and retracted his statement. “Deaf ears. But you’re a cunt for letting it get to this point. I told you those pills wouldn’t hel—”

“They did—”

“They fucking worked, didn’t they?”

Zayn pouted, sinking into the hospital bed. “Felt fine for a while.”

“The only remedy was sleep?”

“What time do I have to sleep?” Now Zayn was raising his voice. “What time do I have, when one minute I’m flying to NYC to be with Gigi? The next I’m promoting my album in Texas or Tokyo? Next day I’ve got to be up and early for my radio interview? Then a photoshoot? Not forgetting I’ve got to be in the studio so as not to lose any words, according to Sarah, then not forgetting my Mom who worrie—”

“Worries? Well, now we’re two people!” interjected Niall. Zayn frowned at him, his lips parted with no words coming out. “Why can’t you just take a break, Zayn?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I—I’ve got to prove myself—”

“By driving yourself to death?!” he screeched.

“I didn’t die.”

“You were technically dead for as long as 8 minutes,” Niall gritted through his teeth. “What would’ve happened then? Would I have gotten a phone call from Jawaad, Doniya or worse your mother saying you’re dead? Because stress got to your heart? Your fucking heart muscles—”

“Stop it! You’re overreacting.”

“No I am not, Zayn. And you know it. Somewhere deep down I know you know that this was serious and scary but you’re ignoring it. Stop. Downplaying. Your. Feelings.”

Zayn looked taken aback. “I don’t downplay my feelings.”

“You do. You simmer everything, sugarcoat reality so people don’t worry about you, don’t spend time on you and you think that’s going to make those around you happy?”

Zayn bit down on his jaw, his jawline shifting and tensing.

“It’s not,” Niall said, voice not angry anymore but not mellow either. “It’s making everyone worried, what you have been avoiding.”

“I thought… I just thought… I felt that if…,” Zayn turned his head, half buried onto the hospital pillow, eyes closed. “I’m not used to this.”

“What’s this?” asked Niall, hand on his back, drawing circles. Zayn did not answer for a while, head buried in the hospital bed and eyes tightly shut. “Not used to what?” he asked, after the silence stretched.

“People caring.”

Niall’s hand stilled on the small of his back. What did he mean by that? Niall wondered. He resumed palming his back, occasionally scratching, but he was focused on Zayn’s face, hidden from him, the hospital, from himself.

“I-I ca-care Zayn.”

“I know,” he whined into the pillow.

“Then why?”

“I didn’t want you to drop what you were doing for me. To come see me.”

Niall stammered. It—He could not even deny that because it was true. If Steve had not put the rule of him finishing his business in the city he was currently in (New Delhi) he would have flown the moment Jawaad had texted him _911!_

“But we’re friends…”

“I know.”

Niall sighed. “Scoot over,” he instructed as he toed off his Vans. Zayn obeyed, scooting to the edge of the bed where there was a metallic railing preventing him from toppling over. Niall got onto the bed, on top of the covers, and together they lay side by side, with Zayn turned on his side.

“When I apologized for the Billboard thing, you told me to never lie to you,” began Niall, “and I’ve kept my promise thus far. But if we’re going to continue our friendship I need you not to downplay anything.” He turned his left cheek pressed to the pillow and—and _oh crap!_ Zayn was too close, so close he could admire those damn eyelashes of his up close, a true rare chance (and the shade of his eyes were a dark honey, not light as he previously thought).

“Be frank with me, Zayn Malik, is all I ask,” he said, utterly serious. Instead of responding, or commenting, or anything (Niall was on edge here), Zayn curved his inked arm round Niall’s stomach and his forehead pressed to his shoulder.

“You’re not my friend Niall Horan,” his voice was low, as if meant for Niall and not the hospital walls, floors and equipment, just them two. “You’ve quickly become my best friend these past few months and I’m sorry for making you come see me.” He squeezed Niall’s middle, where his fingers had aimlessly been. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Then, Zayn lifted himself off the bed slightly and pecked Niall’s (blushing) cheek, lingering for a second or four, and pulling back. “Promise to be frank with you.”

“Good,” was all Niall could muster what with Zayn on his shoulder, at his cheeks, on his stomach, all over his body! This was not good to his heart, or cheeks. Honestly, why did Irish genes have the ‘Pale’ code in them?

“Are we good?”

“S’ppose we were.”

“No, tell me if we’re good not… that.”

“What triggered it this time?”

Zayn’s head was still on Niall’s shoulder, having not moved, but now he was curling himself to Niall’s side, fitting in the curves and dents of his Irish body.

“I got a call from my lawyer saying I could not design for Giuseppe and I had to call the project off, give all the designs and everything to Giuseppe. As a compromise, my lawyer said Gigi could continue my project but the name, and all, would be hers.”

“But that’s not—you’ve been working on this for so long,” protested Niall as he brought his knees up. “Your cunt of a lawyer can’t just say—”

“There’s something you don’t know,” he said, dauntingly.

“What?” he managed a whisper. He swallowed when Zayn’s head bowed slightly and Zayn silky hair fell over his eyes he could not see them but he could feel his hand holding onto his hip.

“When I left the band Simon helped me sign with Capitol, right?” began Zayn and Niall nodded, not liking this at all. “By helped, one of the conditions was to retain the lawyer I had in One D. I didn’t care at that time, I was happy to be signed on a label that would let me make my own music, own lyrics, everything, so I signed.

“It began slowly, my lawyer stating that I couldn’t do certain things and I let them go because they weren’t a big deal. But recently, it started becoming a big deal. Big projects I wanted to do were being shot down or being transferred to Gigi to act on behalf of me. But Giuseppe was the final straw.

“I worked day and night on the design of the shoes, the color, the shade, shape, trying to put my all into it. I asked my Mom on her opinion, my Dad as one of the shoes was for him, Gigi who asked me to dedicated one to her, and I was happy to design it.” He paused.

His fingers fiddled with the hem of Niall’s shirt and all the air in Niall’s lungs evaporated. Fingers brushed along his side, light and feathery he swore he was imagining them if the warm arm was not on his empty stomach.

“Simon made a deal with my lawyer to be cutting a little below 40 per cent of my profits and send them to him. Any project I undertook that was not music was to be approved by Simon Cowell himself first. If he did not like it, like the Giuseppe project, he would disapprove and my lawyer would bring out his fucking law jargon I don’t understand.”

“Simon can’t do that!” he spoke, outraged. “You left the band, completely, so you left him.”

“He helped me—”

Niall sat up, shoving Zayn’s hand off him and twisting, as much as he could, to look down at Zayn lying on the bed. “You don’t owe him anything. Whatever he did, helping you sign to Capitol, making all of it smooth for you, you don’t owe him. For how long were you to pay this 40 per cent? For the next 3 years? Nine? When Simon has had enough?”

Zayn bit the inside of his cheek.

“There are loopholes in every contract.”

“I tried. I asked Gigi’s lawyer to look at my contract, see if anything could be done, but he said it was a done deal. There was no getting out of it—”

“Contracts are renewable. Plus,” he adds before Zayn interjected, “there should be an Article on reviewing the contract, changing something if a need arises. Such as this one.”

Zayn was shaking his head as Niall was talking. “Foolproof.”

“Well, Mr Zayn Malik,” he said, undertaking a cool voice, “did no one ever tell you that the Horans are lawyers? Moreso attorneys?”

“I’ve tried everything. I even hired the best of the best in America, nothing. England, nothing. The one my Dad recommended still nothing. They said this contract was—”

“And you clearly are not listening!” he exclaimed, lightly punching Zayn in the stomach. “The Horans have never met a contract they could not crack—unless you count the Facebook one which was flawed from the start. Anyway, let me have a look at it. And by me I mean my brother. Greg. He’s the best. And Ma. _We’re_ all the best.”

“Maybe the actual lawyers.”

“Heeey! I understand Law, just didn’t go to school for it.”

“Can I think on it? Please?”

Niall wanted to say _no_ , he could not, because he was helping him get out of this horrible mess but it was Zayn, the Zayn who was not used to people doing things for him, for a change, and here was Niall doing exactly that.

“Sure.”

Relief flooded through Zayn like an avalanche and Niall could see it, could almost taste it, and he suspected he was sighing not only for what he did but certain events in his past were falling off his shoulders. Niall’s mouth decided to cut in, his jaw opening and a loud yawn enough to send Zayn chuckling and twisting onto the bed in chuckles.

“You weren’t meant to see that.”

“That was the yawn of a whale!”  Niall lightly punched him on his arm. “You can’t punch a patient.”

“You don’t count,” he mumbled, his eyes closing in on themselves on the hospital pillow. “You’re different.”

“Pass your phone before you blackout.”

“M’not sleeping.” But he nevertheless passed his phone to Zayn. “What do you need it for?”

“I’ve not had a phone for ages I feel like a caveman,” said Zayn, swiping through Niall’s Game apps on his phone. “Why do you even have a Samsung?”

Niall pressed his forehead to Zayn’s warm body, where his Joker card was inked. “Samsung’s are…” he let his sentence peter out, his eyes heavy. Before he blacked out, Zayn’s ankle linked to it and he slept with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOT WOOT WOOOOOOT!!! NEW CHAPTER UP! Feeling little proud of meself for uploading literally in a w.e.e.k's time ha! surprised meself there.. hope you're all taking care & THANK YOU FOR READING THUS FAR, we've got more to read ☺
> 
> take care sons!


	14. Polaroids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gigi and Niall took a swipe at each other on Twitter using Zayn's music.

****

 

 

 

> **You don’t make a photograph just with a camera. You bring the act of photography all the pictures you have seen, the books you have read, the music you have heard, the people you have loved.  
>       ~ Ansel Adams**

         The past days found Niall composing songs for the soundtrack of _The Legend of Tarzan_. He met with Hans Zimmer, the man who was the composer for Pirates of the Caribbean, and together they made a couple of songs, then going out for pints and Niall turning out to loving Hans despite his weird, mild obsession with mermaids. He sent the songs to David Yates and he loved them, apart from two which he felt did not fall into the theme of the movie so Niall rewrote them, as he re-watched the movie for what felt like the 59,238 th time.

After Niall had flown back to London, making sure that Zayn was okay and could be left with his cousins, Gigi, and mother. Zayn still had not called him regarding the contract Zayn was stuck with where he had to pay less than 50 per cent of his earnings to Simon Cowell, and also the Giuseppe project which he could not undertake because of his contract.

Niall brought it up, asking Zayn when he would send it, but Zayn would postpone, stating he was busy, he was having meetings 24/7 he forgot about it, and his favourite, he was asleep. Niall stopped questioning him about the contract and it seemed Zayn stopped talking to him on the regular. Niall pretended he was not bothered because he absolutely was not. He was not bothered when he would stalk Zayn’s Instagram photos, not bothered when he would scroll down his Twitter (saving his photos at the same time), not be bothered at all when he would check to see if he had updated his WhatsApp display photo and status, no, Niall was not bothered.

He even tweeted a lyric from Zayn’s album, definitely not _PILLOW TALK_ , in the hopes that _something_ would happen, something like them talking once more like they used to.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _Beautiful insanity, Live like a movie_

Then…

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I’d take a shot for you  
Drunk all summer_

Not forgetting a daring…

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I’ve done this beFOUR  
Not Like this, not like this_

But now Niall was on a roll… what with being all passive aggressive…

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_So say what you wanna say, say what you want  
Shame is you won’t say that to my face, no_

He honestly hoped Zayn read this one, hoped he got the double meaning he was throwing back at him. Nothing changed. Though Hadiyya and Waliyha RT’d it (And because Niall had technically deleted Gigi from his mind, he also deleted all the Gigi indirect tweets which he knew were for him from his mind).

Except, it did not end there.

Some fans spotted them though and now it was between Niall Horan stans and Gigi Hadid stans going at each other, Niall, with a can of Guinness and chocolate cookies, praying his fans won. They did so he tweeted, to say thank you to his fans, and finality to all this:

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_Don’t think because you’re with me this is real !_

And alright. It was just beginning. Gigi picked up a racket and joined the game. And Niall could not delete her from his mind permanently. Not when fans were tagging him in her tweet.

 **GiGi @itsgigihadid**  
_Saw your face and got inspired_

And oh. Okay. Niall’s pettiness fired inside of him, and he a little ashamed he did not know the lyrics to Zayn’s songs so Googled the lyrics to Zayn’s album.

 

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _You’re looking in the wrong place for my love_

 **GiGi @itsgigihadid  
** _Baby, some people are meant to be loved and others just make it_

What the actual hell? Niall crushed his can of Guinness in his left hand as he read her tweet, over and over, and threw his can in the direction of the kitchen. He was loved, he loved too, what was she hinting at? Was it because she was dating Zayn had he was not? Was that it?

He growled as he typed out his Tweet, but not before Googling the right lyrics. Nothing as shameful as in a passive aggressive fight with your best friend’s girlfriend and getting the words WRONG!

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_She don’t, she don’t, she don’t_  
_Give a fuck about what I need_

 **GiGi @itsgigihadid**  
_I’d love to hold you close, tonight and always_  
_I’d love to wake up next to you_

Oh. Well. Niall had to admit this was pretty good and. And he could not repeat the same lyrics in response to this. As he mulled over his response, Twittersphere caught on to the lyric exchange between him and Gigi and, well, Niall thought it was funny how people were wondering what was going on, why each were tweeting Zayn’s lyrics and _where the hell was Zayn?_

What to write? How to reply?? What.To.Say?!? Niall wondered, his eyes reading through the songs on Mind Of Mine, seeing which one he could reply to Gigi’s lyrical tweets.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I see you talking on your phone, phone_  
_Wish I could get you on your own_  
 _But I’ve seen you gone over love_

 **GiGi @itsgigihadid**  
_So pardon if I don’t speak_  
_Can’t tune my chords into your songs, no_

Did she just… Did she just take a jab at him personally? As part of One Direction? Excuse herself! And it looked like she was not done.

 **GiGi @itsgigihadid  
** _This ain’t my scene, this wasn’t my dream, it was all yours_

 **GiGi @itsgigihadid**  
_I won’t point any fingers, I won’t say it was YOU_

‘FUCK YOU’ was the first thing Niall wanted to tweet but. But no. Holy damn! In the light of day, Niall was seeing Zayn’s lyrics for what they really were. He was basically tearing them as a band down, but then again, he was singing that he had been telling them all along, telling them the reasons he left but the four of them ignored him.

Zayn had been stuck in limbo, it seemed. He was with them in touring, writing songs for the album, running in and out of hotels, having a laugh with them, sure, but at the same time he was not doing any of these things with them. It was as if Zayn split himself into two, in between definitions and categories, he never quite fitted with the rest of them, the rest of One Direction.

But that did not make it okay for this scumbag to say it to him, indirectly to the four of them. So he picked the same song, _tRuTh_ , and tweeted:

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I’ll let life take its time, in time you’ll see the truth !_

But before Gigi could reply and Niall already having six tabs open with different songs off Mind of Mine, Liam came online, seemingly having read all the tweets and governed what it was about, tweeted his own:

 **LIAM @LiamPayneCFC**  
_@NiallJHoran @itsgigihadid It Goes And It’s Golden Like Sands Of Time_  
_I Hope And I Hope You’ll Still Be Fine_

And he continued…

 **LIAM @LiamPayneCFC**  
_@NiallJHoran @itsgigihadid The Choices That We Make Change The Path That We Take_  
_But I Know_  
_That Somewhere Out There There’s A Path That We Chose_

 _  
_**LIAM @LiamPayneCFC**  
_There’s A Life That We Share, There’s A Love And It Grows Xx @NiallJHoran @itsgigihadid_

And with that, neither Niall nor Gigi tweeted each other passive aggressive tweets to each other using Zayn’s songs. That was not say that for _hours_ _into the night_ it was all anyone was talking about on Twitter and _where is Zayn?_

 

The following week, Eleanor called him to inform him of People’s Choice Awards and that he, as well as her, were nominated for several categories. As he finished making his sandwich, he grabbed his laptop and a can of Guinness, and went outside to his backyard. He opened Eleanor’s email, and sure enough he was nominated for several categories: Favourite Breakout Artist, Favourite Social Media Star (he was up against Cameron Dallas, and _oh_ , this was not good), Favourite Song and Favourite Pop Artist.

Eleanor was nominated for Favourite Youtube Star (along with Lilly Singh and Marcus Butler), while Zayn was nominated for Favourite Album and Favourite Song (same category as him) and _oh shit_ , another same category as him, Favourite Breakout Artist.

“This is mad!” he exclaimed on the phone to Eleanor.

_It’s bizarre is what it is. Steve was wondering if they did it on purpose but fans voted so…_

“But someone can manipulate these votes and now it looks like we’re pitching out against each other.

_This is what the industry is all about. Just like in politics, one day you’re friends, the next you’re not._

“Zayn and I are friends, doesn’t matter what categories we’re both in.”

_It says here, on the People’s website, that, and I quote, “the biggest music showdown , however, might end up being between former One Direction bandmates Zayn Malik and Niall Horan. The singers are both in the running for, not one, but two categories Favourite Breakout Artist and Favourite Song. Who will take the Award?” and I end quote._

“Bunch of cunts, they are.”

 _True, agree, but putting all that aside, you’ve been nominate for four awards, Niall!_ Four _!_

“Me? You’ve been nominated for Youtube Star! How stoked are you?”

She yelped. _I’m buzzing still can’t believe it. Me! A Youtube star? I don’t feel like it._

“You are though,” he told her, beaming over the phone. “Congrats, El. You deserve this. You will win, trust.”

_Not so sure. I’m up against Superwoman and she’s pretty fucking amazing. And not to mention Butler… you know he has another channel, MoreMarcus, which is so much better than his main channel._

“Who cares? You’re amazing… er.”

_What? Horrible English, honestly, how do you even write songs?_

“I’m Niall Horan.”

_That’s no excuse._

“It is fo—Ah! Somone’s at the door. Call you later?

_Sure, Nini._

“Don’t stay too long in Cape Town or I will take a flight and come get you back. Already missing you.

_Miss you too, love. It’s just a week then I’m back._

“A week too long.”

Eleanor said her goodbyes and he hung up the phone. He went ahead to open the door and—and it was Harry.

“Harry?” he dumbly asked.

Harry ran his fingers through his short brown hair. “It’s me.”

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asked him.

“To see you.”

“Er…” he stalled. What? The last time he saw Harry was… was almost three months ago. Three months at the Billboards—

“I missed you,” Harry said, shuffling on his boots on the spot.

Now Niall had gotten over his shock that Harry was at his doorstep, a little surprised Harry remembered where he lived, and stood up straighter. “What are you really doing here?”

“I.” Harry looked down to his feet. Niall took him in, donned in tight skinny jeans (when was he never?), a flowered shirt most likely from Gucci, and his hair looking longer than when he last saw him but still short. “I want you back.”

Niall snorted. “You sound like I’m your lost lover.”

Harry laughed, it coming out more like an exhale. “That came out wrong. I missed being your friend.” 

Niall nodded once, stepping aside for Harry to step through his house. He stepped in, gingerly taking a step in, and then toeing off his YSL boots as per Niall’s orders. He silently followed Niall into the house, down the large corridor and sharp turn to the right leading them to the kitchen.

“Would you like anything?”

“Water,” he timidly responded.

“You can have anything, I won’t bite.”

Harry half-heartedly laughed. “Nah, water’s good for me.”

Niall nodded and pulled out a cold water bottle from the fridge and a Guinness for him. They sat on the kitchen counter stools, facing each other, and you could cut the tension with a sharp sword. Harry cleared his throat, having spun his water in place for a while now.

“Firstly, I’d like to say a huge thank you for the Billboard Awards performance, the whole _Little Things_ , and the green and blue love hearts, and just—everything.” He looked up, Niall sporting an unreadable expression and maybe he should plough on, he thought. So he did.

“It was magical, colourful and—surprising to be honest, because I’m the one whose romantic, yet yours took my breath away. I’m sorry for forgetting you—I swear I didn’t—but now looking back on everything it seems that way…” he trailed off. He scratched the back of his neck, head ducked down. He palmed his face, his hands covering his whole face and he groaned, loud.

“When you walked away I thought it was going to be those normal fights we have,” he looked up but not at Niall, “where we just not talk for days but a week passed, a fortnight, a month, two months,” he exhaled shakily, “you didn’t seem to want me and while I had everything, I didn’t.

“You’re my brother Niall, my twin brother,” he laughed but he cut it short when Niall did not even smile his way, “and you and I are the babies of One D. It was us against the adults, we got away with everything because we were the kids and you make me smile. Always.

“But when you were friends with Zayn, always appearing on your Snapchat doing whatever, or you attending Liam’s games – which I should attend – you were friends with everyone but me—us. And it felt like you gave up, not only on Louis, but me. What you said to him on Twitter hit home, it really did but I thought it was you and Louis’ business, not me and you.”

“You didn’t reach out to me.”

Harry combed through his short hair. “I know,” he groaned, exasperatedly. “I know what I’ve done to Zayn can’t be forgiven, for being a jerk to him but you were as well for a while with the rest—okay, okay, that’s not part of the apology, sorry, but sorry for being a dick to Zayn and you as well. I’m extremely sorry and please, please forgive me—okay, probably shouldn’t beg for it and let you decide but think about it, please?”

“I have,” responded Niall, breaking the silence, and Harry exhaled in relief.

“Oh thank heavens!”

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Liam,” said Niall, his voice dropping to an icy level. “You talk shit about Zayn, to Zayn, or indirectly to him, we’re not friends again. You got something mean to say to him, you shut it or say it wherever—just don’t, alright?”

Harry nodded quickly, eyes determined. “Course, course. I will.” He scratched the inside of his left palm, and stuttered, “Wha-what of Lou?”

“What about him?”

“Is he also part—”

“Your boyfriend and I are not talking,” he told him sharply.

“Okay. Fair enough.”

And that was that. Harry was so relived and glad that he hugged Niall, more of clung to his back like a koala, for several minutes, literally, muttering how much he missed his leprechaun.

“That’s mildly stereotypical,” muttered Niall. “And get off my back! I’m not 19 anymore.”

“You’re young enough,” protested Harry, not moving off Niall’s back. He nuzzled his face to the back of Niall’s neck. “My twin! We should take a photo to commemorate this joyous moment!”

Niall rolled his eyes but was grateful the idea got Harry off his back. Snaps of this ‘twinning moment’ and they spent the afternoon catching up on basically Larry Stylinson, Harry as Beast in _Beauty and The Beast_ which he is absolutely stoked about (hello! Emma Watson!) and on Niall’s side, him composing the soundtrack to _The Legend of Tarzan_ and his new album, and whatnot.

“Did you completely stop making music?” Niall inquired over grilled burgers and drinks.

“You make a mean Martini!” gushed Harry. “Thought a little strong for me.”

“Zayn taught me.”

Harry lifted an eyebrow but said nothing else. He took another sip before responding to Niall, “The movie thing happened by coincidence, really. Peter told me that Christopher was auditioning young men for a role in his upcoming movie _Dunkirk_ and I thought, ‘Why the hell not?’ so Tuesday morning I lined up, along with Peter, and next thing I know Christopher was calling me saying I got the part.” He took a large bite of his burger. “I guess I’ve not stopped auditioning.”

“So, movies for now?”

He nodded, chewing on his burger. “Movies for now. But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving the music world, okay? I’ll be back, bigger than ever, but for now I love film. Everything is so—glamorous. You wear different masks every day, be someone new for six, eight months, be in their shoes, learn everything, and then move onto a new mask. It’s brilliant.”

“Sounds tiring, to be honest,” said Niall dryly.

“Such a mood killer!”  Niall shrugged and occupied his mouth with Guinness. “How’s Tarzan going?”

“Great. Working with Hans is sick. He’s a lad! I’ve basically done three-quarters of the soundtrack and I need to be done by June basically.”

“Just about two weeks left!” gawked Harry. “How were you able to do all that?”

“Working with Hans made my work easier by half because he is a composer himself. And David said that I didn’t need to make them all classical, some could be actual songs—”

“Who’s David?” he interrupted him.

“David Yates,” said Niall. “The one and only Director who filmed the last four Harry Potter films? The one who basically made Harry Potter a success? The one who filmed Fantastic Beasts?”

Finally Harry made a reaction that Niall was awaiting for. “Oh! Sick movie, Ni. Reminded me of New York.”

“Well, the film took place _in_ New York,” Niall pointed out.

“Mood killer, you are.”

“Dick,” chuckled Niall, flicking his jalapeno at his face. Harry squealed, ducking but it got him smack on his forehead. Niall’s chuckle slowed down to a smile as he watched Harry shake his head at him, grin on his face, and then he turned to his burger, adding more ketchup.

Oh no!

No, no, no. No! What was Niall doing? Was he… was he checking Harry out? Was he ogling him g—

Oh hell! He was. He just was! But in Niall’s defence, Harry was attractive (what is he saying?) and his ever pink luscious lips were to die for ( _what?_ ) that were begging to be—Niall stopped himself, distracting his eyes with, well, Harry’s fingers wrapping round his Martini glass and taking a sip.

Yes, Niall was attracted to boys, he found them addicting, but he was not one to be attracted to—to Harry. Not once had he thought of Harry this way, nor Liam, Zayn, Louis (why would he? He dislikes the guy!) but here he was, seeing Harry in a new light. New, attractive light.

He found himself asking, “You and Louis good?” to distract his mind from wondering if he truly found Harry attractive.

Harry sucked the ketchup off his thumb. “Yeah we are. We’re great, actually. I feel like I got everything I’ve ever wanted, as my life is right on track – personally, career-wise, friend wise,” he paused to pointedly look at Niall “— but there are still people, people who don’t like us.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry put his burger down on his orange porcelain plate. “Me and Louis are technically gay so that’s why they don’t like us.”

“That’s bull.”

Harry half-heartedly shrugged. “Lou gets bothered by it all. He keeps wondering why people don’t like us, they did before, why not now? At times he reads all the hate, scrolling down, down, sometimes replying back on Twitter and it never goes down well. Jo sometimes calls to tell me that I should not despair about it because Lou did everything so fast – coming out, dating someone – all in the public eye.”

“Makes sense.”

“It does,” it was a weak reply and Niall knew it and he waited for the _But_. “But what got to me was when he asked, just last week, if what we were was right? If being together was right? He sounded so vulnerable, so open and—and I, being a proud gay Londoner, said yes. It was right.”

“He didn’t take it, did he?”

“No. He still doubts.”

“He loves you.”

“I know he does, Jo and Lottie say that too, but I can see him hesitate before he holds my hand, he thinks before he kisses me in public, he second guesses every photo of us together before posting, as if wondering what people will think of him—ugh!” Harry slumped his burger back on his plate. “I just wish he’d listen to me when I tell him it’s okay. It’s okay to be gay. Gay is okay,” he whispered.

Niall got off his seat, walked to Harry, and wrapped his arms round him, his chest pressed to Harry’s bare back. Harry leaned back into Niall, humming happily in his embrace.

“He’s not afraid of you, Harry,” Niall told Harry, “he’s scared of the world.”

“But I’m there, every step of the way.”

“He knows that,” Niall said, calm. Harry sniffed in Niall’s embrace and Niall tightened his hug. He squeezed before letting him go, which Harry pouted at him unabashedly to which Niall laughed, rolling his eyes. “Now c’mon, we are going to watch every possible gay movie under the sun, alright?”

“Or just any romcom will be fine.”

So it went. Harry Googled every romcom to ever exist, before Niall suggested in the last three years to limit his search. Niall was allocated the duty of downloading them, even taking Eleanor’s laptop so as to download several at a time. Harry worked the popcorn machine (“Can’t believe you bought a popcorn machine,” mused Harry) as Niall transferred the movies from the laptops to his large TV.

And so it went, one movie after another, and it was comforting. It felt like ol’ time’s sake when after a show, after a concert, Harry and Niall would cuddle up together and bicker for a good 30 minutes of which movie to watch but then it was fun and Niall did not have to feel ashamed for wanting to watch romcom for hours on end, cuddles and candy, on the menu.

Niall could do the same with Eleanor, heck she was a bigger fan of romcom movies, except lately she was into action which did not fit into Niall’s program of the cuddling part, so they rarely watched movies together. With Liam it was separate, always space between them when watching a movie, not forgetting Liam analysing every single scene in the movie while with Zayn it was a cross between Liam and Harry, but nothing will ever beat watching a film with Harry.

Plus, Harry was open to watch any movie, whether it was Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Old, Animated, Thriller, he was up for it, and Niall took pride in knowing that he was the only one (if he did not count Nick Grimshaw for a second) he could do this with.

Sometime during their third movie, _How To Be Single_ , Eleanor came back home, yelling that she got the chance to finally go to the magical Bangkok city. Her excitement was cut short when she found Niall cuddled cozy with Harry.

“Uh…”

“Hey El!” cheered Niall from the couch, exaggeratedly waving at her who was stood frozen on the spot. Harry was stiff behind Niall and was crawling further down the couch to hide his face behind Niall’s back. “What about Bangkok were you saying?”

“What the fuck is this?” she demanded.

“We’re cuddling!” cheered Niall, again. “And watching romcoms.”

Eleanor’s eyes looked to the TV where _How To Be Single_ was running, Taylor Swift playing… and what? “A little explanation would be nice.”

“We made up. He apologized and now we’re good,” grinned Niall. “He got off his arse, remembered I exist, and where I live, and said sorry for everything. And he promised not to be a jerk to Zayn.” He jabbed Harry in the ribs and a loud, “Ow!” was heard. “Right?”

“Of course.”

“Is it awkward listening to your ex-girlfriend playing on TV?”

Niall laughed at the question and it seemed that was the end of that. Eleanor said she would prepare dinner, asking out of politeness if Harry eats cow meat.

“It’s beef you idiot,” he yelled from the couch.

“Yes,” answered Harry, still hiding behind Niall’s back.

Niall and Eleanor locked eyes and he mouthed, ‘Thank you!’ to her and—and she held his gaze before heading to the kitchen. Niall hoped that meant ‘You’re welcome.’ He was almost positive it did.

“We should watch _Bridget Jones Diary_ ,” suggested Harry. Niall groaned throwing his head forward. “Please! We haven’t—I haven’t watched it in a long time and Louis hates my movie choices.”

“Everyone hates your movie choices,” he deadpanned.

“You don’t,” Harry nuzzled to Niall’s warm back lips pressed to it and it sent Niall back to the question: is Harry attractive? Is he sexy? What do those lips do when—

“I don’t,” he barely whispered, catching his breath in his mind and physically.  The movie continued running, and despite his barely a whisper, Harry heard him, if the growing smile pressed to his warm back was any indication.

 

 

Harry opted for staying longer at Niall’s London home for bonding purposes, Niall secretly thought Harry wanted to make sure the both of them were good _and_ for the free Martinis he was making him. Harry and Eleanor exchanged pleasantries only, which was fine with him, it was better than silence, and Niall did not expect them to be jolly what with ex-girlfriend and current boyfriend statuses.  

What Niall did also not expect was Zayn ringing his doorbell sometime before mid-afternoon with a large binded document looking four inches thick.

“Zayn?” he asked, shocked.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice still in shock.

Zayn held out the thick, four-inched document for Niall. “It’s yours.”

“What is it?” he asked, tentatively taking it in his hands. He motioned for Zayn to enter but he shook his head.

“I’m sorry it took me this long. It’s the contract, the one that I signed with RCA and involving—well, everything,” he told him. “All about Simon, all about Sony, about RCA, my lawyers, which I discovered are in the same company as Gigi, and the rights that too many people have over me.” Niall lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “I read a few bits of it — it’s a long flight from New York — and it was an interesting read.”

“See? Law if for everyone,” chuckled Niall. “I’m telling Greg that.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” snorted Zayn. “Anyway, you said that, you,” he scratched the spot by his right eye, “could check it out?”

“Hey,” Niall held on his wrist, and tugged forcing Zayn to look up from his black boots, “I told you that I can hack this. Every contract has a loophole, no matter how small, I can find it.”

“You?” Zayn said, purposefully sounding doubtful.

“My brother,” Niall rolled his eyes yet smiling, “same difference.”

“One’s an attorney, the other obsessed with Harry Potter.”

Niall laughed in response. Zayn agreed to enter the house, after Niall insisted and was already toeing off his boots and dropping his leather backpack by the door.

“I am sorry I took long,” he apologized as they entered the living room, “the contract was actually harder to get than I thought.”

Niall turned on the spot with a frown between his eyebrows. “Why?”

“It raised suspicion?” he responded. He flopped down on the couch beside Niall and laid his head on the back of it. “Basically it felt like I pressed the wrong buttons because suddenly my lawyer was phoning me, Gigi was asking why I needed to have a look at my contract, then Simon’s PA personally phoned me, demanding why I was looking at it, too. I felt trapped.”

“That shouldn’t happen!” he said, sounding outraged. “You have the fucking right to look at your own contract.”

“I guess,” he sounded unsure, “so I let it go, dismissing everyone. I then had to think about how I was to get my hands on it without raising questions once again.”

“What did you do?”

Zayn shook his head. “Don’t matter, as long as I got it, right?” Niall frowned at him. With his index finger, he reached out and touched Niall’s forehead, space between his eyebrows. “Your face will get stuck like that if you keep frowning.”

“Haven’t they noticed that you got a photocopy of the contract? It must’ve raised—”

“It’s the original contract,” interjected Zayn, dropping his hand from his forehead. “But, listen Niall, I can’t just let you do this for me. I feel useless and I want to help.”

“Nothing much to d—”

“Please. You’re doing so much for me I feel utterly useless and I want to help,” pleaded Zayn. “Even if it’s something as dumb as photocopying the entire document, let me do it. Actually can I? I only brought the original copy without the phot—”

“Stop,” chortled Niall, “you’re rambling.”

“Is there?” he asked, his honey eyes gazing to Niall’s eyes and curses! His cheeks were shading to a crimson color already.

“There really isn’t much to do,” mumbled Niall, looking to where Zayn’s knee was pressed to his leg. “It’s basically just the contract that is the biggest hurdle, which I’ll give my brother tomorrow.”

“I can pay him,” suggested Zayn. “It’s the least I can do since he’s doing so much for me.”

“Each attorney is required do a free case each year and this is the one he’ll do.”

“For free?”

“Yeah. Why is it bothering you so much?”

“Because no one does anything for me anymore,” he blurted and Niall could see the regret in his words for coming out so easy. Zayn retracted his knee, and body, away from Niall and looked away from him, too. “No one does things for me and it feels strange for someone doing something for me. Yes there are people who do something for me but it has strings attached but with you there’s none.”

“We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

He smiled. “We are.”

“And as your best friend, I’m happy to do this and I promise there are no strings attached,” reassured Niall and he cheered internally seeing a small smile on Zayn’s lips and the smallness behind his eyes. “But if you really, really want to do something, fire your lawyer.”

His eager demeanour turned to being taken aback. “Fi-fire my lawyer? Are you mad, Niall?”

“No.”

Zayn opened and shut his mouth like a fish out of water. “B-but what—Niall! I can’t fire my lawyer? Who will I hire?”

“I’ll think of that but fire your lawyer. From what you’ve told me he is most likely collaborating with Simon Cowell,” _and Gigi_ , he did not add aloud. “Firing your lawyer will make it easier to battle everyone else in court. Or out of it, too.”

Zayn buried his head in his hands. “I was so desperate to sign onto a new label I didn’t bother to read between the small print.”

“Happens to all of us.”

“Not you.” Then he snorted, almost to himself. “Right, the Horans are lawyers so obviously you’d notice.”

“Exactly!” he beamed.

The doorbell rang before Zayn could comment and Niall got up to go to the door. It was Harry. “I’m done shopping and guess what? I found Bridget Jones Diary on DVD!” He was waving a white bag probably filled with different types of tea (“You need to drink strawberry tea when watching Bridget Jones, Niall!”) and _Bridget Jones Diary_ on DVD.

“It’s still the same on flash disk, it’s not different.”

“It’s Blu-Ray, Niall, you clearly can’t see th—Zayn?”

Niall saw both of them tense at sighting each other. Harry’s eyes were as large as they could be, gaping at Zayn who was now standing, and both of them were speechless. Niall noticed Zayn drumming his fingers to his side, a nervous habit with the Bradford boy, and the glances he sent his way as if saying, ‘What is he doing here?’

“Is this the part where I make an introductory speech?” Niall attempted to joke but fell flat as both of them were still frozen, gawking at each other. Because Niall was Niall, he continued with his joke. “Harry, this is Zayn Malik from Bradford. Zayn, meet Harry Styles, the one in a film with the Emma Watson.”

“You’re an idiot,” whispered Harry though loud enough to be a normal voice.

“How’s it with Emma Watson?” asked Zayn, testing the waters. Harry narrowed his eyes, slowly turning his head to Niall who was shooting him ice daggers, then took a deep breath and turned to face Zayn, who and watched the exchange with apt attention.

“It’s brilliant. She doesn’t talk much about Harry Potter, so don’t get your hopes up,” this he said mainly to Niall and Zayn smirked, “but she’s cool. A jolly girl, for sure.”

“You must love it!”

“I do,” he replied, deadpan.

“Well, I was leaving,” announced Zayn when silence stretched and Harry made no attempt at falsely asking him to stay. “Lots to do. And,” he looked to Niall, “fire.”

“I’ll walk you out,” he brightly said seeing Harry was bursting with questions. He practically dragged Zayn out the front door.

“I can walk to my car, you know,” mumbled Zayn, “unless you’re getting rid of me…”

Niall heartedly chuckled. “Not like that. Just, you two are too tense round each other and you need to fire certain people.”

“Riiiiiiight.”

“Plus El would’ve made it all weird.”

“How did she react seeing him?”

Niall smirked. “Gobsmacked and Harry hid behind my back the entire time.” Zayn asked, _how?_ “We were cuddled on the sofa watching Dakota Johnson’s new movie.”

“Fifty Shades isn’t out yet.”

He punched him on the stomach lightly. “ _How To Be Single_ , Zayn!” They got to Zayn’s car, his black Bentley, and he was fishing for his car keys in his pockets and Niall felt a sudden urge to pray Zayn never found those keys. So he did the next best thing: stalled him.

“He’s not living with me,” he said.

“What?”

“Harry. He’s visiting for a while, something about apologizing and wanting to bond and…” he trailed off seeing those damn keys in Zayn’s hand. “Whatever.”

“He missed you terribly.”

Niall’s ears perked up. “What?”

“This is Harry telling you that he missed you. He did it all the time after our break from touring ended. He’d literally cling to one of us for an entire day, the longest being Louis.”

“Do you think he’s attractive?” he burst out and _oh_ , the shame washed over him. He watched Zayn go from surprise to confusion to amusement. “Like if—you—if you find him hot? Or cute? Or whatever. Kissable.”

“Kissable?”

Niall nodded. “Do you? Like if you were gay, or something, would you?”

Zayn looked as if he were really thinking about it. “Uh…”

Niall continued to ramble, “Or if you were stuck in a room with Harry and the only way to get out was to snog him, would you?”

“Is that the only way?”

“Yes.”

“Probably, yeah. Have you been thinki—”

“No!” he exclaimed, nervously laughing. “No, that’d be weird. And odd. And—and it’s Harry. Course not. Eurgh. Yucky-yuck. So gross, man.”

“Riiiiiight,” Zayn made an attempt to open the door to his Bentley but Niall, not so gracefully, blocked the door by slamming his body to the car and internally groaning at the sudden impact to his poor right arm.

“Because of you I can make a Martini.”

“Really?”

“Sorry about Twitter and Gigi and all that,” he said, being random and jumpy once again. “Wasn’t meant to have gone out of proportion.”

“S’fine. I could tell you were angry, Mr Passive-Aggressive,” chuckled Zayn. “But I think they were monitoring my telecommunications so I couldn’t say anything. Do you not like Gigi?”

The dreaded question. The one question he never wanted Zayn to ask him, ever. He had been practicing in front of the mirror of when Zayn would ask (by now he had admitted to himself that he did not like the scumbag and was at peace with that fact), how he had to fake surprise, fake shock, throw some lines that sounded like he was utterly surprised by the question and the voice that would deny that _no, of course I don’t hate your girlfriend, Zayn. I love her!_

“No, of course I don’t, Zayno. I love her.”

“Zayno?”

He cleared his throat. “Still workshopping nicknames.”

“On Twitter you got pretty heated with her and so I thought that maybe you two don’t see eye-to-eye…”

“Oh Zaynie Pie,” he said, in his fake voice of reassurance was suddenly sounding high-pitched in his head, “I like her.” He threw an arm round Zayn’s shoulder, pulling him close and if his insides screamed in joy when Zayn snaked an arm round his waist, well, that was for him to know alone. And his insides. “She’s a fabulous American girl.”

“She’s half-Dutch, half-Palestine.”

“Details, Zeeboo!” cried Niall and yes, most definitely his voice was mirroring Mariah Carey’s high notes. He stilled his whole act when Zayn squeezed his hip and turned his head to gaze at him. He was so close Niall crossed his eyes to look down at his nose, and of course those lips, his fucking jawline, then to his honey eyes that melted Niall instantly.

“Do you?”

“A little bit,” he muttered, like a secret being passed. Zayn held his gaze for seconds before letting him go. “Are you mad?”

“No,” he replied and did he sound surprise that Niall would ask? “Whether you like her or not is your business, we can’t all like one another.”

“But you’d prefer if I did…”

Zayn’s silence answered his question. But… but Niall hated the scumbag bitch of a model! She did not care about her boyfriend Zayn and many other reasons he could go on and on right now but with Zayn unlocking his car and stepping in (his futile attempt at stopping him long forgotten), he did not.

“By the way,” said Zayn poking his head out of the window. “Zeeboo the dumbest nickname I’ve ever heard. Give up and find another. Or just call me Zayn. Like my name.”

“You’re name is Zain, with an ‘i.’”

“It’s pronounced the same!”

Zayn drove off after saying his goodbyes and Niall walked back, not before spotting a camera clicking three houses down, and before he even reached his door, it opened with a Harry standing there, fist on his hip.

“Doesn’t take long to say goodbye, Ni,” he said, in a disapproving tone, like a mother to her child.

“Why were you at the door?” he asked instead.

“What did you have to say to him that took long?” Harry questioned, following down the corridor.

“Were you timing me?” asked Niall and slammed onto the couch, face down. He was grunting the next minute as Harry lay his entire body on top of his. “Get off!”

“What were you and Zayn talking about?”

All the embarrassing rambles flashed before his eyes, not forgotten the snogging Harry question. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t seem like nothing. It was like 20 minutes long!”

“Stop stalking me.”

“You don’t stalk friends, idiot.”

“Do too. And get off me, I have a bad back”

“No, you don’t,” hummed Harry. “Your back is so comfy. You should turn yourself into a mattress.”

“Get off, Hazza!” Harry paid him no attention, settling comfortably on top of Niall even, exaggeratedly humming his happiness. “You’re a big pain sometimes.”

“You love me!”

Well, he did. So he said nothing to either confirm nor deny. As of now, he thought he would also kiss Harry. Only if he was stuck in a room and it was the only way out, obviously, and not because Harry’s body warmth was heating his back and other places. Absolutely not.

“Hey Niall?” questioned Harry and his tone had dropped an octave and serious. Niall made a humming noise, urging him to go on. “Do you think he’s happy now?”

Niall did not have to be a super genius to know he was asking about Zayn. Truth is, Niall did not a hundred per cent know if Zayn was finally happy. Scratch that. He was not. What Zayn gained was a peace of mind, strength—

Harry was poking him on the ribs. “Niall! You haven’t answered me.”

“I don’t know,” he replied truthfully. “He’s gained so much more—more than just happiness. He’s got perspective, bravery, sass, peace of mind, unimaginable strength one can dream of, comfort, but…”

“But no happiness?” he tried.

“Happiness isn’t everything, is it?”

“But that’s what he wanted when he quit!”

Niall groaned into the couch. “Stop saying that! Alright? That is so 2015, we’re in a new year now.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his fingers lightly scratching Niall’s scalp.

“He—I don’t think—Zayn’s looking for something, like a fix.”

“A fix?”

“From the very start, Zayn was put on a road he did not want to travel,” he thought aloud instead of living in his head, “but he did it, did it for his family, for those he cared about and now that they’ve been taken care of, he’s in sort of limbo.”

“Limbo,” said Harry as if testing the word in his mouth. “People in limbo don’t really _move_ , right? They’re sorta stuck where they are—they don’t know where to go, what to do. They exist.”

Niall remained silent, mulling over Harry’s epiphany. Suddenly, Harry got off Niall’s back and sat straight but Niall was not happy, his back all cold and he longed for the warmth. He grunted when Harry was shaking him, muttering, “Zayn’s in limbo!” and he, begrudgingly, got up and sat with him.

“You need to get him out of limbo, Niall!” he said, with urgency Niall wanted to laugh in his face. “Zayn can’t keep living life by just existing! He needs to live, needs to let go and let live.”

“Are you trying to sound cryptic?” wondered Niall. “And anyway, since when did you care so much about him?”

It was as if Harry remembered that he disliked Zayn and should not care about his welfare because he stiffly said, “Do not.” like a 6-year old child.

“Do too. It’s part of your nature, to be compassionate.”

“That’s you,” said Harry, “not me.”

“You’re more!”

“You’re more _er_!”

Niall laughed rolling to Harry’s warm body. “That’s not a word.”

“Is too,” chuckled Harry.

“Not.”

“Too.”

**~   ~   *   ~   ~**

**NIAZ:** I am sort of confused about my gift…

 **NIALL:** It’s a polaroid camera, what’s confusing?

 **NIAZ:** I LOVE IT, do not doubt that, just confused…

 **NIALL:** It’s. A. Polaroid. Camera.

 **NIAZ:** Do not type like Liam!

 **NIAZ:** So annoying.

 **NIALL:** I know right?!????!?!?!

 **NIAZ:** Niall.

 **NIALL:** Someone (read Harry) spends half his life taking photos on his camera, then he goes to this studio where he has them printed

 **NIALL:** Louis, Liam & I would ask him why he does that when he can save them on a laptop, iPad, wherever, make a slideshow, add music and VOILA! Perfect

 **NIALL:** Except he said no, that albums were much more precious than photos behind a screen. Something about being able to “touch” the memories, slide your finger down a photo you’ve taken

 **NIALL:** Though you can do that with a tablet screen !

 **NIALL** : But it’s not the same thing

 **NIALL:** U take photos. DUMB OBVERSATION, I KNOW but U do take lots of selfies, some  great, others phenomeNIALL, others got us wishing we had the same selfies game U do cause we’re all running for 2nd place

 **NIALL:** This polaroid is for U to take photos of what UR eyes see – photos of UR kitchen, UR steering wheel, Malfoy the kitten, your sisters laughing together, UR mother cooking, Jawaad snoring, the bright lights of NYC at night, the sandy beaches of Perth, the never-ending traffic of L.A…

 **NIALL:** I want you to take photos of everything around U

 **NIAZ:** Why?

 **NIALL:** See the beauty, the happiness all around you In TFIOS, there’s a quote by Anne Frank who says we should capture the happiness within itself, thinking of all the beauty in everything around us and be happy.

 **NIAZ:** You’re getting too into the movie.

 **NIALL:** I gave you the camera so maybe U can finally start to love where you are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KUDOS & COMMENTS highly appreciated ☻ (whether good/bad, i don't discriminate).  
> hope you liked this chapter and now that zayn gave niall his contract, maybe his career will look up ? [& YAY!! HARRY CAME AROUND!!!!)


	15. Eraser

 

> **I used to think nothing could be better than touring the world with my songs  
>  I chased the picture perfect life, I think the painted it wrong.   
>            ~ Ed Sheeran**

 

         The six of them were playing Pictionary – Harry, Liam, Eleanor, Zayn, Theo and Niall himself. Well, it was just Niall, Eleanor, Liam and Zayn playing, Harry opting to draw Batman on paper with Theo.

“Can’t believe El’s beating us,” muttered Niall, when Team Zeleanor was 20 points higher than Team Niam.

“C’mon, it’s all about the fun, everyone knows that.”

“That’s what sore losers say, Liam!”

“Shut up!” Niall shouted to El, making a rude gesture along with it. Eleanor simply stuck out her tongue. “New round, and this time we’re going to win.”

“Keep dreaming,” joked Zayn which earned him a middle finger from Niall.

Niall’s phone buzzed, Theo running to him all excited and tiny, stating it was Grandma calling. Niall thought it was Grandma _Grandma_ but it was his Ma.

“Thanks Tee,” he grinned, ruffing his hair and Theo beamed below him. He excused himself, walking off to the bathroom to speak to his Ma. Except he did not get to speak because she was bitterly weeping on the other end.

_Niall!_

“Ma?” he questioned, unsure. Why was his Ma crying? “Ma, what’s wrong? Why ar—

_Oh Niall! I don-don’t know what t’ do._

“Ma, why are you crying?” he asked, this time urgently.

_Oh Niall. I don-don’t know what t’ do._

“Do what Ma?” he panicked, his hand stuck in his hair.

_‘Tis ye father._

“What about him?” he asked, a tone full of loathing he wished he had asked kindly when a loud sob escaped his mother’s lips again.

_He overdosed._

And Niall’s lungs stopped function, all the air within him whipped out. He could feel the burn behind his eyes working, his throat drying so quick and fast he began breathing through his mouth.

“Wh-what happened?”

In between tears, hiccups and croaks, she narrated how Chris Gallagher, his mother’s current boyfriend, wanted to take their relationship to the next level and Maura wanted to make sure that she and Bobby had nothing left between them – that they were good, and she sort of wanted his blessings.

Today morning she drove to Bobby’s house, a good 47 minutes away, over an hour with traffic, where she then rang his doorbell upon arrival. There was no answer but this was not unusual. She walked round the back, found the spare key hidden under the third plant from the backdoor and walked in.

Niall dreaded hearing the next part, dreaded with his whole being because whatever happened next was putting him through Hell hearing his mother cry on the phone.

_He was lyin’ there, just lifeless, as if—as if he had no soul. Then I shook ‘im, callin’ his name, shakin’ ‘im but he wasn’t wak—wakin’ up then I…_

He gripped the phone tighter, his eyes focused on the crack of the door, or as much as he could see. His vision was blurry, his mouth open, gasping for air but it was getting stuck in his throat. The phone slipped from his hands and onto the floor, his throat struggling to work, struggling to breathe but his eyes were burning, his ears replaying his mother’s weeps and—

And he did not feel the tiny hand of his nephew tentatively touching his knee.

“Ni?” Theo asked, scared. His wide eyes were staring at his uncle, face soaking wet and making hiccupping, mucus-in-my-nose noises, that he called for him, terrified now. “Ni? Ni, why ‘r’ ye cryin’?”

Niall’s ears were replaying his mother cries for his fat—Bobby that he did not hear Theo, now crying too, for Niall, asking him why he was crying, and that he should stop crying, none of them realizing Maura was still on the phone.

“Niall!” Theo cried. With his own tears streaming down his face, he ran into the living room where the others were. “Eleanah!” Theo cried, arms wide and running to her.

“Theo!” gasped Eleanor. “Why are you crying?”

“Niall!” he simply said before burying his face in her neck.

Harry was the first to react, running off to where Niall was, wherever he was, finding him crouched on the bathroom floor, silently crying and heaving, heaving as if he was drowning and wanting to come up for air.

He knelt down, pulling Niall up to his chest where Niall turned, hiding his whole face into Harry’s warm chest. Zayn found Harry embracing a bawling Niall in his arms and a phone near them. He noticed it was still running so he picked up and tentatively saying _hello_.

Harry swayed the both of them, rubbing circles on his back, half-listening to Zayn talk to someone on the other end of Niall’s phone. Liam came in, concern all over his face upon landing his eyes on Niall cradling Harry then to Zayn mumbling something on the phone.

Then Zayn cut the phone and Liam asked, “What happened?”

Zayn uncertainly looked over at Niall, who was now silently crying onto Harry’s chest, then locked his eyes with Harry then with Liam. “Bobby overdosed on coke. He’s alive, though, just not doing so well. Niall’s mom asked if Niall could come immediately, and if Eleanor could babysit Theo.”

“We can do it,” said Liam. “El’s practically family so she has to go. We can babysit Theo while they go to Ireland.”

Zayn walked to where Niall was, head buried in Harry’s warm chest, and squatted down. He brought his hand to his hair, gently stroking it, and Niall began to breathe normally, face still hidden in Harry’s YSL patterned shirt.

“Niall?” he softly asked. Niall held his breath then and Zayn took that as a signal to continue. “Bobby is in the hospital, not dead, and Maura asked if you could go. She’s already called Greg who is at the hospital and Denise is on her way here to take care of Theo.”

“Fuck,” cursed Niall, pulling off Harry’s embrace. “I forgot about him—”

“He’s fine,” Zayn quickly reassured him, returning his hand to palming Niall’s hair. “He’s with Eleanor and we’re all here for you. Tell us what you need.”

Niall’s red, wet eyes held Zayn’s calm, soft eyes for a moment, Harry darting his eyes between the both of them, brows furrowed and Liam who had already left to check on Eleanor and update her.

“I want to go Home,” he mumbled.

“Course.”

 

 **~   ~   *   ~   ~**  


****

Niall was sat in the relatively small, private hospital , white walls matching the pale skin of Bobby laying still on top. He did not look that different, from the last time Niall saw, just looked older, wiser somehow. Perhaps it was the beard, perhaps the white hair, or maybe it was the wrinkles by his eyes and the corners of his mouth, whatever is was, he looked different yet at the same time looked the same.

His Ma was clutching to his left hand, her hands cupping his, and her eyes never leaving his face since she walked in over 40 minutes ago. She silently cried in between those minutes, to which she shook her head at Niall when he shot up from his seat to comfort her. He could not get the sounds of his mother crying on the phone out of her head, and to know it was Bobby who caused them… it was him…

Niall’s grief had completely evaporated and he was now full of anger, rage, and boiling blood. Who was his father, anyway, overdosing and causing his Ma to cry? Who was this man who walked out on all of them, without a reason, just like that out of the blue, suddenly overdosing and the very same people he left are the ones who come rushing back to him? Who was _he_?

He got up suddenly, startling his Ma. “Sorry. Need some air.” She nodded quietly, as if words were too much, and resumed gazing at Bobby. He walked off the door silently only to be met by Zayn, Willie and Harry who were abruptly standing up and Eleanor walking over to him.

“Watch her, please,” he requested.

“Course,” she said, kissing his cheek and walking into the hospital room with his Ma and Bobby.

“Would you like anything?” asked Willie.

Niall shook his head. “I’m good. Just need fresh air.”

“And a hug!” cried Harry, jogging over to him and wrapping his long arms around him. Niall chuckled, trying to squirm free, but it got stuck in his throat and remained. He melted into Harry’s warm embrace, breathing out shakily. “Power of hugs, Niall, always work.”

“You’re an idiot,” mumbled Niall.

“Me, yes, hugs, never,” responded Harry. Neither of them heard a click, like the sound of a camera, going off and Willie raised an eyebrow Zayn’s way. Niall pulled away and began walking down the corridor. He made it to the lifts, blindingly searching the wall for the button to the lifts till he bumped his hand with another. He looked up from his shoes, to the left to find Zayn pressing the button and then gazing at him.

“Hey.”

Niall weakly smiled. The lift came and they both entered, meeting others inside it.

“Rooftop?”

“But I’m hungry,” moaned Niall. Zayn chuckled, albeit empty, and pressed the Mezzanine button. At the hospital cafeteria, there was not much choice, granted it was a hospital, but still. They should invest in good, edible food, and perhaps solve the problem of people healing faster!

“Everything looks so green and puke-y and vomit-y and I already feel sick,” said Niall, distaste in his mouth.

“The vending machine might be a better choice,” Zayn supplied and Niall practically sprinted to the machine. He looked pleased, content to find something edible and not green making his stomach hum happily. He got several chocolate bars, and two Cans of Coke.

“Aren’t you getting anything?” asked Niall, with a questioning lifted eyebrow.

“I’ll just have a Lucozade.”

“S’all?”

“Yeah. Not that hungry…”

“When did you last eat?”

“Not that hungry,” he promptly replied and stepping forward to press number 5 where his Lucozade dropped down.

But Niall was Niall and so he inserted a 10-pound note and told him to pick something to eat, Zayn insisted he was fine, Niall replying by saying he would pick the most disgusting thing in the vending machine and he would have to eat it. Zayn rolled his eyes and pressed number 56 for a KitKat.

“KitKats are disgusting.”

“They’re better than Snickers and Mars,” said Zayn, pointing to the bars in Niall’s right hand.

They walked out of the hospital and to the far right where there was the hospital’s parking lot. In between cars, they sat on the pavement, Niall dropping the items in his hands to the ground, and phone to his right side. Niall opened his can of Coke and held it up.

“Cheers?”

“For?”

“Life? I don’t know,” he mumbled and drank a large gulp. “For being alive.”

Zayn made no comment, choosing instead to scoot closer so that their sides were pressed together. They ate in comfortable silence, the expansive view of the parking lot – cars driving in, cars trying to parallel park but failing – their form of distraction.

“Hey,” Niall broke the silence, “do you know the Miranda Rights?”

“The what rights?”

Niall took a bite of his Snickers bar. “The whole thing when you’re arrested in America and they say you have the right to remain silent…”

And yes, Zayn knew but that was not what was causing his eyebrows to be furrowed, it was the utter randomness of the question and knowing Niall was avoiding talking about his father, laying asleep on floor 9 at the Mullingar National Hospital.

“If I’m being honest, I only know ‘You have the right to remain silent’ and nothing else,” said Zayn then took a bite of his KitKat. “Do you know all of it?”

“A little,” he admitted. “It goes, ‘You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions.’ Then the whole can-be-used-against-you part comes in, followed by the consult an attorney but if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you which goes on with something something, forgot the middle part but ends with the police asking if he is willing to answer witho—Zayn!” He grabbed his wrist painfully. “Please distract me.”

Niall was gazing at him, eyes pleading, weak, and wavering. The hand gripping his wrist with the _ZAP!_ tattoo anchoring him down, somehow, and he weakly nodded, swallowing deeply.

“Um…” he began, eloquently. The hand on his wrist was still present, and he was racking his brain for something to say, anything and nothing came to— _oh_ , _wait_. “You know in Harry Potter in Fifth Year they do their Ordinary Wizarding Level exams—”

“Saying O.W.Ls is quicker,” Niall interjected. Zayn smiled despite himself, Niall did not look what he was seconds before and of course, anything Harry Potter and Niall was on board. Always.

“Anyway,” he continued, “wizards and witches at Hogwarts do their O.W.Ls and—and what would you take? And score?”

“I’m too shocked to respond properly.”

“Why?”

“You know about O.W.Ls, much less Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, well, my best friend is a Potterhead.” He took sip of his Lucozade. “Think that had to do with it.”

Niall half-heartedly chuckled. “S’ppose. So. Tell me, what would you do and score?”

“Well, I only know two subjects: Potions and Transfiguration, mainly because they talk a lot about them in the movies,” said Zayn. “For Potions, I think I’d get an A, Acceptable.”

“Potions is tough, I agree,” nodded Niall, chewing on his second Snickers bar, “I’d be lucky to even Pass it, what with Snape teaching it.”

“But you’re in Slytherin, he loves you guys and not the rest of us.”

And you’re in Ravenclaw, may I remind you, the geeks and nerds of Hogwarts. Read the book and you’ll get it.”

“Nah,” Zayn shook his head. “Don’t want to be obsessed like you. Plus the movies are good, like the books?”

“No!” he exclaimed, his Coke can in mid-air. “They are literally two separate things because there is so much missing in the movie and yet parts of the movie aren’t in the books…” He sighed, exhaustedly. “They’re different but as long as they take you to Hogwarts, it’s fine right?”

Zayn nodded for Niall’s sake. It was not fair that his blue eyes were not as shiny as before, that his laughter sounded like he was choking on a sob, it was not fair that Niall was denying himself to cry for his father when he hated him for much.

“For transfiguration I’d fail. So… what are the fail grades?”

“P is for Poor, D is for Dreadful, and T is for Troll.”

Zayn laughed, proper laughing, which Niall, with a sad tug to his insides, never saw it a lot. Or rarely. Publicly, it was as if it was Zayn’s image to _not_ smile. Whether it be photoshoots, his Snaps, selfies with Gigi, music videos… anywhere and everywhere he rarely smiled. Even out of the public eye, he still did not smile. Granted he laughed, smiled… but it rarely lasted and rarely reached his eyes. So if Niall’s eyes lingered on Zayn’s face laughing, sue him, when was he going to see this next?

“What’s that class that looks into crystal balls with that crazy Professor with big glasses?” he asked, his laughter drying. “What was it?”

“Divination.”

Zayn clapped a hand on Niall’s back. “Yes! I’d get a T in that class. I’d be lost because half the things she says are rubbish and even in real life I’m not into Greek mythology and astrology and looking up at constellations, I’m total rubbish so I’d fail that class.”

Niall smiled to himself, lips around his Coke can. He supposed he would too but he would put effort into the class. Or better, yet, drop the class and not do it.

“I would probably pass Transfiguration,” thought Zayn, back from his laughing mood, “like get an—what’s after Acceptable?”

“It’s O for Outstanding, E is for Exceeds Expectations and A for Acceptable.”

Zayn looked at him, slightly taken aback to how Niall knew this, then looked to his right, pondering. “So Outstanding is like an A? Or A-plus?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. For Transfiguration I’d get an A, or E if I study super well, but ugh! Turning stuff into other stuff sounds like a load of work, and bull,” he smirked to which Niall pinched his thigh, “so I’d fail because I’m lazy.”

“Or you suck at Transfiguration.”

“Humph! You know what I’d pass in? The lesson where that big guy teaches using animals. I’d get an O,” he told him excitedly.

“Care of Magical Creatures,” Niall supplied. He thought so, too, as Zayn was naturally gifted with animals, and genuinely loved them. Niall on the other hand…

“Yeah, and the one for plants,” added Zayn.

“Herbology. That’s the one Neville got an O for his O.W.Ls.”

Zayn stopped his chewing to ask, “Who’s Neville?”

“Longbottom.”

“Who is Longbottom?”

“Neville Longbottom.”

Zayn palmed his face, then shook his head. “You’re hopeless!”

“What about Arithmancy?”

“Burgh!” Zayn made a face. “I’d get a Troll for that. Definitely. Sounds too Maths-y.”

“Maths-y?” laughed Niall just as he was about to take a bite of his third chocolate bar. “You call me hopeless when you clearly invent words.”

Zayn rolled his eyes playfully at him which increased the pink colouring on his own cheeks. Curses to being a pale Irish! He occupied his mouth by eating as Zayn continued listing the courses he would fail or (slightly) pass if he were a wizard at Hogwarts.

“Or the class that you told me is basically cursed because no teachers are never around.”

“DADA.”

“Da— _what_?”

“Defence Against the Dark Arts,” corrected Niall. “DADA for short. And it’s not there aren’t Professors, it’s just that there has never been a Professor to hold the position for more than a year. And Snape has always wanted the post but year after year he never got it, till Sixth Year, finally.”

“I think I’d fail because of Snape,” said Zayn, looking to his left where a car was entering an empty parking space.

“But you’re in Ravenclaw, failing is not in your blood. Or House.”

“Yeah but that means I’d be spending my entire life in the library, never enjoying the castle and whatnot.”

“Luna never seems to be reading though…”

“Who is Luna?”

“Lovegood.”

“Who is Luna Lovegood?”

“OMG, Zayn! I keep telling you this. It’s the blond girl in _Goblet of Fire_ who lost her shoes.”

“Oh. Her. She’s weird, in like, not a good-weird but strange-weird,” Zayn stated. Then paused to chew on his KitKat. “I don’t know how she was sorted into Ravenclaw.”

Niall chuckled softly, agreeing with a “hmm.” They fell into silence, once more, the sounds between the both of them slurping of soft drinks from the cans.

“Do you think that if the five of us were in Hogwarts, we’d have been friends?”

Niall started. This was the first time since they became newly friends that he asked about the other three. Niall and Zayn never explicitly or directly talked about Harry, Louis, nor Liam, for reasons unknown to Niall, but now, now he was, even if it was not blatantly done, he was still asking.

Niall was left staring at him, eyes wide open that Zayn turned his face with his hand to look away from him.

“Stop staring.”

“This day is turning out to be full of surprises and shocks and yours is topping the list. Almost.”

Zayn smirked at him. “What? Didn’t you know I’m fast becoming a Harry Potter fan? I’ve got a House, a wand, everything, including a Patronus Charm. I’m sick.”

Niall scoffed. “You’ll never read the books, so no, you’re not sick.”

Zayn replied with _whatever, Potterhead_ and remained silent. It looked like Niall was living inside of his head, so Zayn let him as he took out his packet of Dunhills, getting one out and lighting it with his match stick.

“According to the Hogwarts world, there were four friends – Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff – just like us, except we are five. They were the best of friends but soon they were divided. Each person wanted what they desired: Slytherin wanted the purest of bloods at Hogwarts, Gryffindor wanted the brave ones, Ravenclaw wanted those who had the sharpest of minds while Hufflepuff, who was the last, said she would take the rest, not based on who or what they are because she accepted everyone.

“Slytherin and the other three had huge differences and this caused friction between the four of them that he left, for good. The four friends who had vowed to always be together couldn’t and because of that the Houses in Hogwarts have always been divided, especially Slytherin and Gryffindor, and to some extent the other two…”

“What happened in the end?” asked Zayn, not liking what Niall was telling him, not liking what he was hinting at about the five of them. About them never… “Like, after Hogwarts?”

“Oh. They become civil, them lot.”

“You sure?”

“Haven’t you read _Cursed Child_?” questioned Niall, then answered himself. “Course not, you don’t read HP books.”

Zayn swayed Niall’s body by bumping shoulders. “Shut it, Slytherin.”

“I wouldn’t call it friendship but they don’t hate each other anymore in the final book. Draco’s—He’s much, much better. And lonely,” added Niall, watching a car reverse out of the parking space. “He’s damn worth the whole bunch!”

If it were not for Niall’s serious tone and the distant glint in his eyes, he would have made fun of him for obsessing over Draco, but he did not. Instead he brought his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag.

“Thank you for coming,” spoke Niall to their warm silence and the sun high in the blue sky. “And for… distracting me.”

“Course,” Niall felt the warm breath before the lips on his jawline, then a hand lightly brushing his cheek. “Anytime, yeah? Call me.”

And… and Niall being Niall ruined the moment by suddenly singing the theme song to the cartoon Kim Possible.

“Call me, text me, beep me, if you wanna reach me!”

“What?”

“It’s the Kim Possible theme song.”

“You and your randomness will be the death of me!”  


**~    ~    *    ~    ~**  


**NIALL:** [www.youtube.com/fa893ga](http://www.youtube.com/fa893ga)

**NIALL:** It’s ‘Thistle  & Weeds’ by Mumford & Sons.

 **NIALL:** Greeat song. A little mellow from what we both recommend to each other but I’ve been having a long week, sorry…

 **NIALL:** Tell me what U think !

 **NIALL:** & I LOVE ‘One Dance’ !

 **NIALL:** Can’t believe it was a hit & only NOW I’m I listening to it !!

 **HADIYYA:** STOP APOLOGIZING!! we recommend all types of songs, thought you knew that??? even if your song choices suck (;

 **NIALL:** DO NOT !

 **HADIYYA:** DO TOO, DO TOO

 **HADIYYA:** and i’m sorry about your dad. i hope he’s alright.

 **NIALL:** Bobby’s fine. He’s remained at the hospital for the doctor to monitor him. He’ll be out on Friday. Yay.

 **HADIYYA:** that was such a falt yay……....

 **NIALL:** Yeah, well, me & Bobby aren’t close.

 **HADIYYA:** why’d you keep calling your dad Bobby?!

 **NIALL:** Coz that’s his name…

 **HADIYYA:** mine is called Hisham and i don’t call him by his name. i call him “Dad”

 **NIALL:** Not all of us have that luxury.

 **HADIYYA:** i’m sorry.

 **NIALL** : Stop apologizing, H. It’s fine, really. I’ve grown to accept what everything is.

 **HADIYYA:** doesn’t mean it’s stuck. things change, people change, the environment shifts BECAUSE IT HAS TO and maybe you and your dad will change.

 **NIALL:** Doubt it.

 **HADIYYA:** why mumford and sons? i thought troye sivan was your go-to music…?

 **NIALL:** Well, Harry & I have recently become friends again which means listening to weird songs 24/7 (something you 2 have in common) & he recommended ‘I Will Wait’ & I listened + accidentally downloaded the albums. Ha!

 **HADIYYA:** AHAHAHA you’re a dork, you know that! didn’t even know that they exist……

 **NIALL:** THEY’RE AN AMAZING BADN! HOW COULD U NOT?

 **NIALL:** BAND*

 **HADIYYA:** you didn’t know them till harry recommended one of their songs!

 **NIALL:** NOT IMPORTANT DETAILS HADIYYA

 **HADIYYA:** AHAHAHHA DORK!!

 **HADIYYA:** is ‘i will wait’ a good song?

 **NIALL:** Yup. Let me send the link.

**NIALL:** [www.youtube.com/afhioawnfa](http://www.youtube.com/afhioawnfa)

**HADIYYA:** alright. will listen later.

 **NIALL:** What are U doing now?

 **HADIYYA:** doniya says i should wash the dishes i’ve been postponing! and the dishwasher broke two days ago!

 **NIALL:** Didn’t U say U’d fix it?

 **HADIYYA:** zayn was meant to send a plumber, or whoever, to fix it but he never did so we’re ? stuck ? sort ? of ?

 **NIALL:** Or U can Google one.

 **HADIYYA:** zayn said he knows a good guy. and i’m starting to wonder if it is secretly superman working as a plumber.

 **NIALL:** Starting to wonder if the guy who fixes broken dishwashers are called plumbers…

 **HADIYYA:** aren’t they?

 **NIALL:** Don’t plumbers fix taps and stuff ? Water-related things ???

 **HADIYYA:** dishwasher uses WATER!!

 **NIALL:** Yeah, but…

 **HADIYYA:** oh crap! she’s back already and i should’ve washed these dishes 4hrs ago.

 **NIALL:** URE in shit! AHAHAHA

 **HADIYYA:** shut up! talk later?

 **NIALL:** Course.

 **HADIYYA:** \+ Niall?

 **NIALL:** Yeah..

 **HADIYYA:** just because your dad left does not mean he doesn’t care. he just shows it differently and in ways you can’t comprehend..  


**~    ~    *    ~    ~**  


“You’re awake,” Niall obviously stated. He locked the hospital door to Bobby’s room on his way in and walked round to draw the curtains.

“Sunny day.”

Niall turned to look at Bobby and pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed where he could look outside the window at the blue sky, sun shining into the otherwise pale room. There were flowers by the window sill, obviously from his Ma, and he guessed the lilies were from Eleanor. The ‘Get Well’ cards were from a number of people, the chocolates which did not seem to be ending were piling up near the flowers, and not one gift was from Niall.

“Do yah want a box o’ chocolates?” Bobby asked, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t ‘ave th’ ‘eart t’ tell people I don’t take sugar no more.”

“Why?”

“Diabetic.”

Niall narrowed his eyes at him for a moment. “For how long?”

“Two years now.”

“And, what, you overdose on coke?”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t tryin’ to kill meself, Ni—”

“I’m not Ni, Bobby. I’m Niall to you,” he grinded his teeth together.

“Was a’ accident.”

“You sure? I know you heard about Ma and Chris, them both moving on, becoming serious, and you becom—”

“I’m not jealous, Niall. Promise ye that. When I left yer Ma t’ree or so years ago I did it, forever, ‘n’ I still feel t’e same as I did that day I left.”

“Then why overdose? Why?”

“Accidents happen. Look at me,” he feebly raised his hands up then down by his sides, “I’m an old, Irish man, me spirit is willin’ but the body is weak,” he meekly laughed, it falling flat in the pale hospital room.

“For some stupid reason, Ma still cares about you. Yes, she’s moved on, we’ve all done that, but a part of her will always care for you, no matter who she’s seeing, who she’ll marry next, whose house she’ll move to, she’ll always care for you.” Niall ducked his head for a moment before looking up at Bobby. “And you don’t give a shit.”

It was on the tip of Bobby’s tongue, to chide Niall for swearing, but… but he lost that right a long time ago. So he bit his tongue and pulled on the bed cover.

“I cried for you,” confessed Niall, not wanting to look at the man and instead opting to look outside the window. “Tears streaming down when Ma called, saying you were lying there, not moving, and I cried,” he suddenly shook his head. “I thought I was over you but.”

He curled his fingers to a fist, suddenly hating his mouth and brain for losing the words that were right there, in the space between him and Bobby but for the love of good and evil, Niall could not summon the words.

“Why can’t we be normal?” he blurted. Bobby inched his head at his son, just a bit. “Why can’t we be a normal father-son family?”

Niall, when he had been retracing Bobby’s steps to when he had stopped loving them, had begun wondering if he would ever feel normal. He, technically, did not have a father. While there were people out there who literally had no father, he felt he was like them. His father was dead to him, simply put.

Except when Harry would constantly be showing photos of Robin on his phone to him, or Liam laughing about what Geoff and his pals were up to last Sunday, or maybe when Yaser and Zayn went for a cricket game, or simply when Dan and Louis spent their time bonding with the new additions to the family, he wondered what of him? What of him and Bobby? Was he ever going to have that? Even _a piece_ of it?

“We were never like ’em Niall,” Bobby halted his thoughts.”S’not in our blood.”

“Greg and Theo have an incredible relationship!” he bit. “What do you mean it’s not in our blood? Your blood, you mean.”

“Ye have me Irish blood.”

“I wish I didn’t then maybe I’d have had a father who cared about me.”

“I do care.”

He sneered, “Funny way of showing it.”

“Ye’ve got t’ stop bein’ mad that me left ye. This anger towards me has paralysed ye, can’t move a finger or a toe ‘cause ye can barely move.”

Niall parted his lips at his—Bobby’s wise words but then it all came back to him and he snarled, “What’s this? Father-son bonding? Too late for that now, innit Bobby?”

“‘Innit’?” mused Bobby, he sway his head against the pillow. “Yer becomin’ British.”

Niall absolutely ignored him, choosing instead to speak up for his Ma. “Don’t make her sad again,” he began, his tone commanding, pale and icy all at once. “Don’t make her go through what she did when she saw you. I can’t begin to imagine what was on Ma’s mind, finding your unconscious body on the floor, not responding, streams flowing down her face, throat closing up because she thought she lost you.”

Bobby gulped loudly looking away from his son to the heart monitor above him.

“I’ve never heard her cry like that, the sort of crying that doesn’t sound like it’ll ever end, but I did and it’s absolutely horrible; none of us ever want to hear our Ma’s crying because you feel helpless and shattered and you terribly want it to stop so you do everything to make sure it does. But you know what the worst part is? It was for you.” He bitterly laughed. “She cried for you.” He bit down on his teeth, as hard as he could, willing his building anger to _calm the fuck down_ because he could not erupt now. His Ma was outside with Greg, Eleanor, Liam and Zayn and he… he could not erupt. Not now.

“I didn’t mean to, Niall.”

“Don’t bring the tears back to her face, or the weeping sounds to her mouth because heaven knows she’s cried too much for your shitty ass self. She still cares,” Niall said, in a way that hinted his surprise. “She still loves you, I mean, she was coming to ask for your blessing so obviously she cares about what you think of her—”

Bobby swallowed. “We love ea—”

“No!” he roared then closed his eyes and counted down to zero. “No, Bobby. You don’t get to say that four-letter word to any of us, specially her. You said you did not feel it for us so don’t you say it.”

He calmed himself down by taking a deep breath as he got off his seat, pacing around the hospital bed. The pacing was not helping his boiling blood, he needed to hit something. Anything.

Words first.

With his knuckles stark white, he growled between fiery eyes and clamped teeth, “Don’t bring the tears back on Ma’s face. Don’t scare her because for some stupid reason she cares for you, loves you even despite what you’ve done to her all these years.” He stopped, looked his father in the eyes, and roared, “DON’T PULL THIS SHIT AGAIN OR I SWEAR I’LL KILL YE MYSELF!”

“Niall!” His Ma was at the door, shocked and face blanched. “Out! Now!”

“Was done anyway,” he muttered under his breath, eyes glaring at his father before storming off. Outside the door he caught his breath, counting down to zero in his mind, letting his insides cool off.

“Niall?” It was Eleanor. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “You alright? I heard yelling…”

“M’fine,” he replied. He looked up seeing Greg and Zayn all wearing masks of concern on their faces and bowed his head in her hair. “He’s a jerk, s’what he is. Is all he is,” he corrected. “Always has been, always will be.”

“He’s still your father,” she reminds him gently. “You two will always share that.”

They break apart, Niall gnawing on his bottom lip. “I’m heading back home.”

“Sure, I’ll meet you there. I think I’ll stay with M and Greg. Zayn will go with you,” she said, in her signature Mother Hen voice.

“I will,” agreed Zayn.

“You need some rest bro,” Greg attempted to joke but it fell flat.

“No. I’m going home, back in London,” he corrected. “You can all stay, see you when you get to London.”

Greg and Eleanor have identical masks of speechlessness, Greg sporting a frown.

“Okay,” Greg spoke first. “We’ll update you. Call when you reach?” he had a hand on his shoulder. Niall nodded.

Eleanor hugged him tightly and he kissed her cheek. “Call me.”

“Keep her safe,” he told her about his Ma.

The journey back was a blur to Niall. He vaguely remembered packing his belongings at his Ma’s house, Zayn buying them food and eating it in the taxi driving to the airport. One minute the smell of mint, cigarettes and Zayn was around him and then next it was not as Zayn was boarding a flight to LAX and he was alone in the taxi, just as he was entering his home alone.

He flopped down in front of his TV, snapping a photo for Snapchat, sending them to Zayn, Greg and Eleanor and another with _always time for Hogwarts_ as the caption. Indeed it always was. Niall was cozied up on the large couch, _Half-blood Prince_ on and of course, cans of Guinness beside him waiting to be opened and drunk.

It was a good life, he burped. Almost.

 

Over the following week, Niall met up with Hans Zimmer some more, trying to beat the David Yates deadline for the soundtrack of the amazing movie coming out in July, and if Niall had not yet freaked out completely, he was introduced to Nicholas Hooper. Yes, the one and only Nicholas Hooper who composed the soundtracks of not one but two Harry Potter movies.

Niall spent the better part of the day gushing over how he was a magician, what with the soundtracks to _Half-blood Prince_ and _Order of the Phoenix_ (mostly _Half-blood Prince_ ) and how he was a genius, made Niall tear up, sure it did, and—and Nicholas Hooper politely told him he was grateful and perhaps they should begin composing the last two songs left for the movie. But before, he added that he had the entire soundtracks Nicholas Hooper looked a little overwhelmed so Niall completely halted his fangirl, er boy, and they got to work.

By Thursday Niall had sent all the soundtracks to David Yates and he was official done with that project. It felt good, really, for finishing something, and also for not having to ponder about what his Ma had called to tell him last Sunday: his father was out and she would be throwing a tea party in his honor.

 

**~    ~    *    ~    ~**

  


“You mother makes world-class chocolate cookies,” Jawaad swoons, munching on the cookies his Ma baked.

It was D-Day for the tea party. It was a small get together, just his family (including Bobby), then he invited Willie and Eóghan, then through much pushing from his Ma, he invited Zayn, and not to be a wanker, he asked him to invite whoever. Here, Niall tried as hard as he could to hint that _no_ , he should not invite Gigi, and seeing that half the tea party was just Zayn’s cousins he thought he got the message across. Yes, Zayn’s cousins. You invited one, you invited them all.

“She is brilliant at them,” commented Niall, pride in his voice. “You should try the Oolong donuts.”

“I did,” grinned Hadiyya appearing to Niall’s right side, “and absolute heaven. Why haven’t you said how Maura is such a great baker?”

Niall shrugged. “Didn’t come up in the conversation.”

“Seriously?” snorted Jawaad. “How do yummy pastries not come up in the conversation? From now on, we’re going to be regular guests at your place.”

“Only if Maura is there,” she pointed out, winking at Jawaad, “or else there is no need.”

“Heeeey!” Niall protested in mock offended. “I’m plenty reason to be visited.”

“Have you guys tried the Blackberry Pocket Pies?” asked one of Zayn’s many cousins (he truly hoped she was one of his cousins as it could be a niece, aunt…).

“No.” Jawaad took one off the plate she was carrying and as soon as he began chewing his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Heaven.”

“I can literally taste the blackberry,” swooned Hadiyya.

“You three look like you’re having an orgasm.”

“Foodgasm is a thing, I believe in it!”

“Same!” cheered Hadiyya.

“I saw all sorts of shortbread flavours by the table over there,” said the cousin or aunt or niece, “wanna come?”

Hadiyya left and it was just the two of them. Jawaad was licking his fingers clean and continuing on munching on the chocolate cookies. The tea party, to Niall’s opinion, was a success. People came in plenty, Ma (and her friends, Denise and Eleanor) spent two whole days baking in Niall’s kitchen and he does not think that his kitchen had seen so much action since he bought his house.

He invited Liam and Harry, too. Well, invited is used loosely to Liam. He forced Liam to come, wanting him to bond with Zayn as he was the one who was closest to Zayn during One D and as an avid football fan, he knew Liam would be free because this weekend there was no Premier League match (FA Cup matches instead) meaning Chelsea was free meaning _he_ was free. As for Harry, he was in Greece filming for _Beauty and the Beast_ and could not attend. Niall thought he was not attending because he did not invite Louis but. At least Liam showed up.

“You’ve been staring at Liam like he is rotten,” commented Jawaad.

“Have not,” Niall muttered because it was true.

“Have too. Every time he laughs with Zayn you get this scowl on your face, this nasty look like you want to punch him.”

Niall looked at another part of the party. His Grandma and Theo over by the hammock. “I haven’t.”

“Zayn’s not doing so well with Gigi,” said Jawaad slowly, as if not sure if he should be telling Niall or not.

The corner of Niall’s lip twitched. “Why?”

“Who knows what it is this time? Those two are always fighting.”

“Why?” he pressed.

“For one, this tea party.”

“How?”

“Because you didn’t invite her so she was pissed, saying that he always spends his time with you and not her,” said Jawaad and Niall’s lips were twitching. “Then about the lawyer thing which you sneaked in. Why would you do that?”

“Because the lawyer was milking him dry.”

“He was helping Zayn. If it wasn’t for him who knows where he would be right now.”

“About 15 million pounds richer, for starters,” Niall spat. He set his glass of lemonade down. “The lawyer was technically one of the many lawyers hired by Simon Cowell and through him Simon was controlling Zayn’s career. For months Zayn has secretly been looking for a lawyer, a better one, but he couldn’t find one, and now, he cannot afford the good ones because up to 40 per cent of whatever the makes goes back to Simon Cowell.”

Jawaad’s jaw dropped. “What? 40 per cent? You’re not serious, Niall.”

“Serious,” he said, jaw tense. “So when I told him to fire his lawyer and the rest of you threw him shit for it, maybe you should stop and ask why he did it. Why he did what was right for himself, for once.”

“We didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he told him and walked off, heading for Liam and Zayn. As he was heading towards them it dawned on him that the reason his lips twitched whenever Jawaad said Zigi were fighting was because he was, _oh shit_ , because he was happy.

“Nialler!” gleed Liam, “you’ve got to tell me what’s Maura’s secret to this delicious Strawberry Matcha roll cake!”

“Whipped cream,” he answered. To his left, Zayn had his fork stuck in his mouth, lips round the shiny, silverware that got Niall’s stomach doing flip flops.

“I know that,” grunted Liam, “but there’s something… something I can’t quite taste but it’s delicious.”

“Not telling, Payno,” smirked Niall. Liam whined and Niall laughed at him. “You enjoying yourself?”

Zayn nodded. “Thanks for inviting me. And sorry for everyone else.”

“The more the merrier right,” joked Niall. “Hey, there’s something I want you to try.”

“What about me?” whined Liam.

“Tough shit, Payno,” cackled Niall as he pulled Zayn away. He led him to the other side of his backyard, where _more_ pastries were. “I’m no mixologist like you, at all, but my Ma is and she made this.”

“What’s this?” asked Zayn accepting a glass of white and orange.

“Peach Chamomile Panna Cotta,” he said as Zayn took a sip. “How’s it?”

“Holy fuck balls, this is brilliant!”

Niall laughed. “Really?”

“How have I not seen this and Liam and I have been canvasing the whole party trying new foods.”

“C’mon,” he motioned with his head. Zayn grabbed an extra glass of the Pinna Cotta, then on another table Niall placed several dark chocolate truffles on a plate and they sat near the hammock where Grandma and Theo were.

To the rest of the party, they were easily visible and at the same time hidden. Niall was visibly hunched close to Zayn, their knees touching, and a large contrast between them but it did not seem to deter either. Hidden because no one could hear what was making Zayn laugh, what was causing the crinkles by his eyes nor the clink of glass as Zayn and Niall knocked their Panna Cottas together. They were in their own private world and the party left them alone for a while.

Zayn brushed his hand with Niall’s as he took a truffle from the plate and popped it into his mouth. “I’ve never been to a tea party.”

“Really?” asked Niall. Zayn shook his head. “Ma always threw him, all the time, and they just. Stopped.” Niall frowned. “I don’t know why but they did. And it looks like they’re back.”

“Isn’t that great?”

“Not for reason it’s back. I don’t see why Ma still cares about Bobby,” he sneered spotting Bobby chatting with Greg. “He put her through Hell and he just prances around Ireland without a care.”

“He’s still your father,” said Zayn, eyeing Niall intently.

“Thank you for firing your lawyer.” Zayn blinked at the change of subject but made no comment to the subject change. “Alright, I don’t think I’ve asked a random question in a long time.”

“Baths or showers?”

Niall blinked at Zayn. “Look who’s the random one?” Zayn winked at him. “I prefer showers.”

“Baths.”

“Do you want a mosque wedding?”

Zayn nodded. “It’s what my Dad would want. You?”

“No because I’m not a Muslim.”

Zayn made a noise that sounded a lot like a facepalm. “Honestly, Niall!”

Niall laughed as Zayn rolled his eyes _and_ threw a truffle at him. “I don’t know. I… I’ve never thought about _where_ I’d get married, just that I will be married. I’m more worried about if it is the right person.”

“That, too,” said Zayn thoughtfully. “What if you get married to the wrong person? Only later realizing that you’re not fitting, no matter how hard you work at it.” Zayn’s tone was lowering that Niall was leaning in. “Because when it’s wrong, it turns your life to grey, and you don’t notice that someone is _wrong_ for you and by then you’re e nearing your ninth anniversary.”

Niall hesitated for a moment then whistled. Actual whistled.

“Are you whistling?” asked Zayn, an eyebrow quirked.

“Yeah, sorry, just didn’t know what to say to that. I guess it is true. All of it. But back to your getting married in a church, I wouldn’t mind eloping.”

“Elope in a church, wouldn’t ya?”

“I guess but eloping sounds better than all the planning.”

“I don’t think couples who elope last very long.”

“My grandparents from Bobby’s side eloped. Been married for 70 years; 71 in November.”

“Oh.” Zayn ducked his head, his cheeks burning. Niall smiled small thinking it was cute seeing Zayn flustered and cursing because on Zayn you can barely see color on his cheeks but if it were him he would be as red as the strawberries on the white chocolate cake he had eaten earlier.

“You didn’t say anything wrong, Zayn,” Niall assured him, hand on Zayn’s wrist, “s’all good. Grandma thinks the same thing, saying they are a doomed couple. Each year before their anniversary, she says that they are going to split.”

Zayn chuckled, as he sipped his second glass. “She’s losing, isn’t she?”

“She’s been doing this ever since I was born. Ma says she was doing it as soon as she told Grandma about Bobby’s parents.”

From across the backyard, Liam narrowed his eyes. “Have they always been close?”

“Huh?” Eleanor looked up from her plate of Chocolate Chair cupcakes. “Who?”

“Zayn and Niall.” Eleanor looked at them, Niall’s cheeks bright red and Zayn smiling brightly, then continuing to chew. “Well?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I don’t know, they seem a little too… close,” he observed.

“They’ve always been close. Perhaps not as close as they were in One Direction, but closer now that it’s over.”

“One D isn’t over,” huffs Liam. “It’s a hiatus.”

“You and Niall need to realize when something, in this case One D, is over,” said Eleanor. Liam narrowed his eyes at her and then stuffed his mouth with one of the cupcakes on her plate. “Heeeey! Get your own.”

Liam responded by munching loudly.

Back to the Irish and the Pakistani, Zayn has his head on Niall’s shoulder. Niall has been trying to get his breathing in order, while getting his cheeks to. Stop. Burning and flaming and not forgetting his bloody stomach which has not stopped doing _gymnastics_ inside of him and now, of all the things, now his arm feels like it was on fire as Zayn left his inked arm there. Like, it was right there on top of his.

Oh someone drop Niall in a pool of cie. Better yet, his very own pool, to cool his mind, his heart, his stomach, his bloody _arm_ all down.

“You’re not dozing off are you?” he joked, attempting to distracting himself out of his frenzy of a mind.

“I’m getting better.”

“Really?”

Zayn nodded on his shoulder. “I’m sleeping more, taking the energy pills twice a day, drinking water, eating healthy.”

Niall hears the _but_ in the distance but what was louder, ringing in his ears like a trumpet, was Zayn’s fingers traveling down his pale arm to threading his fingers with his. He gulped. “But?”

Zayn hesitated. “I still feel tired. Burned out.”

“You’re not saying ‘No’ are you?”

“Can’t say ‘No’ to family.”

“Friends?”

“I have. I’ve been taking care of myself, being selfish and doing what’s right for me but,” he punctuates his sentence, turning his head and nuzzling Niall’s neck with his nose. He shivered and he prayed, prayed to—to the gods above that Zayn did not feel his shiver. “It’s not enough.”

“Gigi?” he tried.

“She hates me for the Giuseppe deal. Said I’ve ruined her chances of being the face of Versace.”

“It was your bloody idea in the first place, fuck her.” Zayn lifted his head off his shoulder and Niall felt like he had just been slapped. “Oh fuck. No, no, no, no. That is not what I meant. I meant like—Um—I was suppo—it came wro—it should—”

“Don’t’ sweat it,” he chuckled at him. Niall nodded because really, he was not sorry. He meant what he said about Gigi.

“Come on,” said Niall taking the glass out of Zayn’s hand and placing them both on the plate. “Let’s go inside.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” Zayn silently follows Niall inside his house, then upstairs and into Niall’s room. He slowly turned to Niall, his entire face one big question mark. “Sleep. Nap. Whatever. You need it.”

“What? No. I’m fine I promise.”

Niall stepped into action stopping Zayn’s way to his bedroom door. “An hour, I promise. You need some rest.”

Zayn quickly glanced at Niall’s bed then to him, Niall seeing the millions pleas that no, he should not sleep but be at the tea party happening in his backyard. Niall maintained his determined face and it became a tiny war between them… which Zayn lost when he glanced at the bed again.

“An hour.”  

“I’ll personally wake you,” smiled Niall watching Zayn toe off his boots and getting under his covers. “Close your eyes,” Niall prompted after Zayn left them open for a while.

“Can’t sleep with you randomly in the room,” said Zayn and Niall swore he could not feel his legs anymore. Zayn was wholeheartedly looking at him, not just looking but gazing, and yep, he knew his bad knee would give out, along with his good knee, and he would tumble to the floor. So he got out of his room and shut the door behind him.

“Nialler?”

It was Liam. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Defensive,” Liam snorted. “I was going to the bathroom.”

“I was heading downstairs… haven’t tried the mug cake.”

Downstairs, he found rows of mugs with rainbow cake inside of them and took one. A sharp wood-like stick poked him on his back side just then and he knew who it was.

“Grandma!” he whined, palming his back where his grandmother had been stabbing him. “That hurts! I’m not young anymore.”

“Ya want to talk young now, do ya?” Grandma cried.

“No,” he mumbled. “Do you want a mug cake?”

“No. Where’s ya boy toy?”

Niall rolled his eyes. “He’s not my boy toy. He’s my boyfriend.” Grandma raised an eyebrow and Theo gasped by her wheelchair. “No! I didn’t mean that. I meant boy who is a friend. Boy. Friend. Separate words.”

“Separate, huh?”

“What’s separate?” asked Eleanor stepping into the kitchen where they were.

“Zayn and Niall are boyfriends.”

Eleanor gasped out a, “What?” and stared up and down at Niall with shock and surprise.

“Boy. Friends. Separate words meaning two boys who are friends. It was a slip of the tongue.”

“What was a slip of the tongue?” asked Liam, having come downstairs already and into the kitchen.

“Niall and Zayn are dating,” Eleanor stage whispered earning chuckles from Grandma and Theo. Niall groaned, throwing his head back.

“What?” Liam turned sharply to Niall. “You two are dating? Since when?”

“You don’t honestly believe El? She’s lying.”

“Nah-uh, you said boyfriend,” Theo said, loudly in Niall’s opinion to which Eleanor and Grandma howled as Liam continued gawking at Niall.

“Slip of the tongue!”

“Is that why he is in your room right now?”

“What?” gawked Eleanor, her eyes twinkling.

“Kill me now,” Niall groaned.

“What is your boy toy doing in your room?” cried Grandma, whipping her stick around.

“He was feeling tired so I told him to take a nap,” explained Niall then to Liam and Eleanor he said, tightly, “Nothing more.”

“Boyfriend!”

The three howl in laughter at Theo’s outburst and Niall shook his head heading outside where he did not want to he taunted for a slip of the tongue. On his way outside, his mug of cake in his hand and a tea spoon in the other, he sat down on a table with a couple of Zayn’s cousins, Zayn’s mom chatting with his Ma, and Hadiyya.

“Finally, someone normal,” he heaved a sigh of relief.

“Normal?”

“Yes. Running away from them,” he pointed toward the back of his house.

“Your house? You’re running from your house.”

Niall looked at her blankly. “Honestly Hadiyya. Sometimes… you.”

“Me?”

“Stop this conversation. Where is it even going?”

“That’s the mystery of life,” she proclaimed. “Who knows where words will take us?”

“My Ma absolutely refused alcohol at her tea party, as always is the tradition, so I know you’re not drunk. Nor high because Ma doesn’t approve of weed.”

Hadiyya giggled. “If Maura put weed in these brownies it would’ve been hilarious. Cool and hilarious.”

“It would’ve been disastrous. Eleanor would be on the roof dancing naked to what she thinks is Ed Sheeran playing but the music is in her head.”

“Ed is perfect,” sighed Hadiyya in her seat.

“Niall, have you seen Zayn?” asked a cousin (or uncle or summat).

“Yeah,” he answered cautiously.

“Don’t be so defensive,” laughed Jawaad. “We need him to go get something from the supermarket.”

“Why can’t you go yourself?” asked Niall.

“Cause we’re in the middle of Poker and none of us can leave.”

“Pretty sure Poker does not involve a hundred people, so whoever’s not playing can go and get—what was it you wanted?”

“Whipped cream,” answered Cousin Zayn (Niall at this point should probably be calling them Family Member because they might not be cousins but another _type_ of family member).

“Go get it yourself.”

And the party halted. Rather, the party outside did. Those in conversation stopped theirs and turned to Niall and Family Member of Zayn.

“Zayn’s the one with the car.”

“Zayn’s not the only one who can drive.”

And a vein snapped. Or maybe it was a nerve in his brain, or a nail inside his knee, or some red blood cell broke in half (unlikely) but Niall set his mug down and swiped a glance at everyone in his immediate vision.

“You know what your problem has been?” he asked, rhetorically, and it was as if every black-haired at the party was looking to him, at him, and he got a flashback of when he was at Zayn’s in Bradford and puked on Tricia’s expensive carpet. “All of you treat Zayn like crap.”

“We don’t!”

“You do,” snapped Niall. “Every damn time it’s always, ‘Zayn get me this’, ‘Zayn do this for me’, Zayn, Zayn, Zayn. Like, don’t you ever do anything for yourselves? Don’t you ever buy anything with your own money?”

“Ni, sit down this instant!” his Ma chided but Niall was pumped. He was now standing, his eyes trained on Cousin Zayn.

“None of you, not one, noticed that Zayn was exhausted,” he yelled. And yelled some more. He accused them of not beignt here for Zayn, firstly, when he wanted support. It was always Zayn dropping things and rushing off to be by their side but no one did that for Zayn.

“You all use him,” he growled. “You use him, drain him. Whether it’s asking for money, wanting his attendance at some event, party, family gathering, you want him there and he will because who the fuck cares about his schedule, right?” His closed his fists and bit his tongue sharply he winced. He swiped his hair away from his forehead. “The promotion for his album is too much with Sarah and Nadia dragging him for a radio interview, another interview across the country, across the continent, on another continuent, then another photoshoot, and another magazine interview, and another and another and at the same time he has to be with his girlfriend so as not to be a crap boyfriend but he cannot be everywhere at once!”

“You’re wrong, Niall.”

“We’re there for him!”

“You’re a damn liar! Did you know that the only reason he went for X Factor was to pay his Yaser’s hospital bills? He didn’t even want to sing, even though he is amazing at it, no, he wanted to be a vet. His entire being wants to be a vet but after he paid his bills there was always something else for him to do, something to pay, something that required him to give away a part of himself and—how could he say no?”

He stopped to inhale deeply, everyone too stunned to utter a word including Tricia, Zayn’s mother.

“Get a new house, buy a new car, pay the mortgage, rent, school fees, and over the years he forgot about being a vet. He forgot about what he wanted and it became about how to make everyone happy.”

“That’s a lie, Niall,” it was Hadiyya speaking. “Zayn loves what he does.”

By now Liam, Eleanor, Grandma and Theo had come out and the party was virtually at a standstill.

“Sure, he does,” he says his tone slipping with something that everyone questions if Zayn really loves singing. “He loves singing about how One D was horrible to him, about his ex-fiancée, about how he wanted to be himself and he couldn’t because our Management kept telling that no, he wasn’t a fit.”

“You made him feel that way.”

“I know,” shouted Niall, shaking his fist. “I know that now. I know what we made him feel in One Direction but I’ve stopped. I put him first because no one else does. Do you know what he prefers to do, when he’s not running himself silly trying to make you smile? He loves cooking. Simple as that. And judging from your faces none of you knew this.”

True to his word, there were jaws hanging, wide eyes in shock and others began whispering to each other.

“He loves cooking. Cooking anything really, whether it’s simple eggs or something complicated as Thai noodles with some funny sauce and ribs on the side and desert that he made from scratch, he loves it but doesn’t do much of it. How can he when all of you are pulling him all at once?” he questioned low but they heard his words. “So, he comes over he cooks to his fill, whatever he wants, I go buy so that he can enjoy himself and he looks so, so peaceful you have no idea. He looks calm, like the weight on his shoulders off, he can relax.”

“He goes for his drives where he relaxes.”

“And does he take any of you?”

“Sometimes.”

“And what about the lawyer?” Niall barked.

“Why would you do that?” it was Tricia. “His lawyer was the best one he’s ever had. The others were horrible to him but this one was recommended by Simon Cowell himself.”

“And didn’t you think that was suspicious?” Niall tested. “Didn’t you think it was strange that Simon himself gave one of his own lawyers to Zayn?”

“Niall!” Maura chided him. “You will not speak rudely to Zayn’s mother like that.”

“But it’s true. His lawyer was taking his money, he was dictating what he can do and what he cannot do. There are so many ideas, so many projects that Zayn wanted to undertake but according to the contract he signed with RCA he couldn’t and he was chained. The only thing Zayn could virtually do was make albums, nothing more, nothing less. He violates his contract, like the Giuseppe project, he is fined, millions and millions of pounds.”

“He didn’t want to do Giuseppe so he let Gigi do it,” Doniya spoke.

Niall laughed humourlessly. “Fucking Gigi is a scumbag, nothing more.” He hit a nerve and he knew it, the Maliks looked ready to attack but Cousin Zayn spoke above them all.

“Niall!”

“No, be truthful. You’ve all seen it. She’s nothing but a cunt. Zayn didn’t give her the project because he wanted to, it’s because he _had_ to. He still wanted to design shoes for Giuseppe and he gave the designs to Gigi but oh no, Gigi had her own ideas and basically took the project as her own. Zayn could fight her for it but cannot because he would be wrecking his contract and who does that to a girlfriend, right? And it’s not just Giuseppe, it’s Tommy Hilfgier, it’s Vogue Arabia, it’s Marc Jacobs, it’s… it’s so many Fashion Houses he’s been called to be a designer for them but he can’t. So Gigi takes them instead, making them her own.”

“Tommy Hilfiger is all Gigi, everyone knows that,” Walihya protested.

Niall shook his head. “It’s Zayn’s. Well at first, before he was fined close to eight million pounds and Gigi took the project and became the face of Tommy Hilfiger.”

“You think you know Zayn but you don’t. You’re just some nobody that suddenly came into Zayn’s life and pretended to be his friend.”

“I apologized for that, fuck!” screamed Niall, his rage rising rapidly. He clenched his fists and he knew he had to say everything now or he would do something he would regret. “I said I was sorry for lying to him and we are better now. Stop holding that against me when Zayn has forgiven me for it.”

“We don’t forget Niall just in case Zayn does.”

“Oh, now is when you’re all deciding to be caring and looking out for him? Now is when you decide to act like a family to him? Where the fuck were any of you before? In 2016?”

“Niall stop this instant!” cried his Ma.

“What about houses?” he asked them but naturally no one replied. “He’s bought so many for nearly everyone here and ironically he has no house in England. Not one. He had one, with Perrie, but he’s trying to sell it because he cannot live in it. Isn’t it odd that he doesn’t have a house here, where his family and friends are, but one across the ocean, not where Gigi is but across the country in L.A.? Does no one find it weird?”

“He got the house to be closer to his producers.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s the truth,” Hadiyya said. “He said so.”

“All of you need to start reading Zayn closer because what he says, what he means, and how he says something are all different things,” he said and he paused. It was true, it was the complete truth, something he came to learn. “And none of you noticed this until he ended up in a hospital, collapsed because of exhaustion.”

“He said he was taking energy pills.”

Niall snapped, once more. He grabbed the saucer one of Zayn’s cousins was eating her cake from and threw it across the backyard, startling the party. “Energy pills will not solve the issue you bloody fucktards. The energy pills clearly were not working and he took so many stupidly thinking that many will give him energy but they didn’t. And the fainting? The fainting that Gigi knew about but said nothing to anyone? The bloody eating disorder no one saw and only when you could see his bones sticking out did you comment on it?

“And Anthony, of fucking retarted Anthony, Zayn’s old best friend. Used him over and over and over, for his fame, his money, he was Zayn’s pick-up. Whether there was a party, he’d call Zayn and later he found out that he was only called, not for company, but because he was Zayn Malik. And Anthony was not the only one, many have lied to him, so many later on, and I’m ashamed to say I was one of them, I was part of his list of Liars and I’ve been showing him I am not that person but people like family,” he spat the word, “are still liars to him.

“What are you implying Niall? That I don’t know my own son?” asked Tricia. Her tone was low, dangerous and the Maliks knew that voice, the voice that one should not argue with but Niall was a Horan and clearly did not know Tricia.

“Fucking not,” growled Niall and he ploughed on, ignoring everyone’s gasps, chides, and his Ma shouting at him to _stop this instant!_ “He burns himself, sets himself on fire to make all of you happy. He could be crawling on his knees and hands, just wanting to rest but no, he is will crawl just to paint a smile on your face? And what does that do to him? Nothing. He paints a smile on everyone’s faces but his own.”

“Niall ye stop at once!” yelled his mother and this time she grabbed his arm and pulled him away. But Niall was stronger. “March! Now!”

“Leave him!” Grandma spoke and it was thunderous.

“He’s being disrespectful,” said his Ma to his Grandma.

“Your son sees things that no one sees in that boy. What he speaks is the truth but he needs to say it in a gentle way.”

Niall tuned his Ma and Grandma out, not listening to the bickering instead eyeing the Malik family. They looked, for sure, Niall can see anger when it was there, and he was seeing it as clear as day. But he was not focusing so much on the entire family but on Zayn’s mother, Tricia, who he could not read as her—

“Niall, follow me,” she said as calm as day but Niall knew that calm, it was the calm before a storm as he has heard the same voice on his Ma. Niall swallowed. He numbly followed her down the steps and further back into his backyard. She turned around and Niall halted in his place.

“Yes?” he weakly asked after she was looking at him, like he was a bacteria under a microscope.

“I don’t like you disrespecting Zayn’s family, _my_ family, and if you have something to say to us you say it peacefully—”

“I did and none of you listened—”

“And stop shouting at me,” she said, still calm. Niall mumbled an apology under his breath. “What did you mean by Zayn burning himself out? That he paints smiles on our faces except his own?”

“Zayn’s a lovely son,” he said quenching his rage and trying to be calm and serene but his fists were saying a different story. “I want him to know that people love him that not everyone hates him.”

“Who hates my little sunshine?”

“Fans,” he shrugged one shoulder, “his Management team, you can tell.”

“Sarah? No. She’s been nothing but kind.”

“She dislikes him.”

“Who else?” She was almost afraid to ask but she did anyhow.

“The entertainment industry in general. Tabloids throwing backlash at him, gossip columns, radios almost refusing to play his songs—”

“Why?”

“My brother, Greg, saw something in the contact Zayn signed with his Management team and they limited his radio plays, Youtube views would always be low, made it look like his album was not selling well when really it’s his Team doing this behind his back. He gets so worried that people are hanging onto the past they don’t see his present, his future so he overworks himself trying to prove himself.”

“Burning himself?” she breathed and Niall nodded. She collapsed onto the lawn chair behind her and covered her face with her hands. “My baby boy! I didn’t know. My poor sunshine.”

“If you thought him being in One D was bad, it’s much worse now, so that’s why I told him to get a new lawyer.”

“I understand,” she said, voice watery, “I just wish he would’ve told me.”

“And with his family it’s like he can’t get it right anymore, can’t make them happy. He does one thing, they want another, he gets them a better house in Bradford, they want one in London, they want a bigger one in London, a more expensive place, a better school,” he punctuated his sentence with a sigh.

“But he made us happy.”

“It doesn’t feel that way to him,” he told her. “It feels like you’re not happy.”

“But we are.”

“Tell him that. With hate from the industry, his family never satisfied, friends lying to him right, left, and centre, where does that leave Zayn?” he said, not meaning it to be a question but Tricia sat up straighter and looked up at him.

“Alone.”

Niall pursed his lips together, choosing to remain quiet. He dropped himself down on the grass beside the chair she was sitting on.

“He’s sleeping now…?” she asked, laughing but she ended up choking. Niall nodded, smiling sympathetically. “How’d you know he was tired?”

“His head was heavy on my shoulder,” he said and Tricia quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“That told you he was tired?” she asked, sounding doubtful.

“Plus he was quiet.”

“He’s a quiet boy over-all.”

Niall shook his head. “Not really. I mean, yeah he is but he’s not quiet at the same time. It depends on his mood and if he’s sleepy. He’s quiet when sleepy,” he added when Tricia looked slightly muddled.

“How does a mother not know all this about her son?” she questioned after they lapsed into silence. “It’s why I hated you, all of us really. I mean he had never mentioned anything, neither did Gigi and here you are, telling us, warning us, and when he ended up in the hospital for exhaustion my heart stopped.”

Niall saw her lip trembling, her eyes downcast.

“Apparently he didn’t wake up for a while. He had collapsed and it was the bartender who called the ambulance. Bartender,” she repeated. “Not family, not friends, not Gigi, but a bartender. A total stranger taking care of my little sunshine.” She wiped her cheek then, and looked sightlessly in front of her. “‘What if he never woke up?’ is what I kept asking myself. He was all alone in this world and he was scared.”

Now Niall was tearing up, his throat drying up. He recalled the time when Zayn told him he had fainted at the Billboards and when he woke up, no one he knew was there but a total stranger. He could smell the fear as he told him the story, and he could not imagine a confused, dazed Zayn waking up and not knowing where he was, what happened and seeking comfort even if it was just a pat on the shoulder.

“I sometimes wonder if he is more alone than he lets on,” she continued, her cheeks wet and not afraid anymore of showing this side to Niall. “On the drives he goes for, when he’s with his cousins, when he’s at the studio, at his house all the way in California. Always surrounded by so many people yet you feel so alone.”

Niall sniffed and swallowed the block in his throat. “You don’t think that do you?”

“I don’t know what to think,” she cried. “I used to think he was safe but do you know what it’s like to get a phone call saying your son is in hospital, unconscious? And the arriving there, hours later, and he still hasn’t woken up?”

Niall shuts his eyes, tight, but drops roll down his pink cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he murmured not knowing what else to say.

“You’re the only person he asked for.” Niall opened his eyes, surprised. “Yes, you were,” she said nodding, “he didn’t ask for anyone. Granted, everyone else was already there so he didn’t have to. But. It got me thinking. What if _we_ weren’t there? What if none of us were there would he ask?”

“Of course.”

She laughed, though it was mixed with mucus and tears, but laughed nonetheless. She combed her fingers through her jet black hair and flipped it behind her shoulder. “I don’t know my own son, Niall. I’m woman enough to say it, don’t think any of them will,” she pointed with her thumb to where everyone else was, “and you somehow do. He trusts you,” she said quietly and for some reason he fleetingly wondered if she felt betrayed by that, “even when he doesn’t trust his family.”

“He does,” he reassured her. “He trusts you, Mrs Malik. He adores you, and everything he does it’s for you, all for you.”

She breathes in deeply and looked to her right where the party was inconspicuously looking at them both and some turned around so fast when Tricia looked their way. She stood up then and Niall took his cue to stand up from where he had been sitting on the grass.

“You always think you know someone, used to them acting one way, but they go ahead and surprise you,” she said and turned her attention to Niall. Niall, oddly, squared his shoulders, feeling immense pressure at the level attention he was suddenly receiving from Zayn’s mother. “I wonder, sometimes, if my husband’s heart didn’t stop, then Zayn wouldn’t have gone on X Factor, and maybe he would be fine. He would be safe.”

Niall did not agree. “X Factor is the greatest thing to ever happen to Zayn. I know I sound like a contradiction but it is. Plus,” he looked down at his feet, “if it wasn’t for X Factor I wouldn’t have known him.”

Tricia placed two fingers under his chin and pushed up his face up. “If something is meant to be it happens, so if you two were meant to meet you would’ve either way.”

Niall nodded and he felt like that was a stamp of approval from her. He did not realize how much it had been bothering him because he currently felt like he could breathe around her now. “Sorry about your carpet,” he said then, chuckling to light the mood.

Tricia smiled at him. “You bought a new one, even better than the one I had, so it’s fine. Didn’t Zayn tell you?”

“He did. Thought I’d say it to you, personally.”

“Well, thank you for inviting me to you mother’s tea party. It was wonderful, for the most part,” she winked and they both chuckled. “I hope your father is healthy now.”

“Yeah.”

Tricia looked like she was about to say something but she did not, instead stating that she ought to be leaving, seeing as she would be driving for a long time. Niall asked why. She was driving home to Bradford where her husband was and the following day they would be visiting Safaa in boarding school.

Maura had decided when Tricia and Niall were having their talk that the party was over and perhaps everyone should be heading home. The party agreed, and one by one they began to leave. Zayn had woken up by then and was confused at, well , all of it but each one ominously said they would explain later.

“Safe journey,” he said to her when they were at the driveway and most of the party had left.

“Is anyone going to tell me what happened?”  Zayn whined to no one in particular.

“Stop asking, someone will,” Liam said rolling his eyes.

“Niall will,” Tricia said to her son and kissed his cheek. “Call me before you head to New York, alright?”

“Course Mom,” he said, blushing at his mother’s words and the fact that Liam and Niall were looking at them both. “Get in before Layla drives off.”

She kissed him, once again, and she was off. He turned to Liam and Niall and asked, “Will someone explain what happened?”

“Later,” said Niall before Liam could reply. “But first dinner. I’m starved.”

“You ate half the party,” said Liam, walking behind Zayn and Niall.

“Shut up Payno! Like you and Eleanor didn’t eat all the pocket pies.”

“What did Eleanor do?” Eleanor appeared before them, her hands on her hips. Liam dismissed her, saying it was nothing and they soon began quarrelling, which, as Niall sat down in front of the TV on the large couch, was what they do often when they were together.

“Did something happen?” Zayn asked close to his ear, “when I was asleep?”

“Too much,” he answered and stuffed his mouth with a forkful of lemon cheesecake.

“You’ll tell me?” he asked in his oh so tiny and small voice that Niall had to gaze at him. He nodded then smiled. That was satisfying to him if him laying his head on Niall’s shoulder was anything to go by. Or even taking Niall’s fork and his plate of lemon cheesecake and eating it.

“Heeeey!” he protested but it was weak.

“I don’t think I tried the cheesecake.”

“It’s almost midnight, what are any of ye doin’ up late?” Maura asked, standing by the doorway.

“It’s too early ,M,” said Eleanor.

“Half a’ hour and yer all goin’ to bed.”

“C’mon M, just until 2,” pleaded Eleanor. “Promise we will sleep at that time.”

“Tomorrow Liam has to be up early for trainin’ and sleepin’ past midnight is not what the Doctor ordered.”

Liam had a small smile on his lips at the fact that Maura remembered him telling her.

“Payno sleeps later than midnight, Ma,” Niall interjected.

“Pretty sure Conte doesn’t care what you do at night as long as you’re on time for training,” supplied Greg, sitting on the other couch in Niall’s living room.

“Who is Conte?” asked Niall’s Ma.

“The Manager for Chelsea,” groaned Niall. “We’ve said this countless times, Ma.”

“I’m growin’ old, Chicken, don’t forget. Sometimes I forget things,” said Ma. “Greg, I’m leavin’ ye in charge. 2 AM.”

“Thank you, M,” Eleanor blew a kiss Maura’s way.

“It’s my house, Ma.”

“And you’re my son, no matter whose house you’re in, remember you’re my son. Both of you,” she added looking to Greg who was sleepily lying on the couch. She bid them goodnight and walked off, and immediately, Eleanor and Greg jumped forward towards the TV. Eleanor was there first, seeing as she was closer to the TV than Greg.

“What are they doing?” wondered Liam.

“Fighting on what movie to pick,” explained Niall.

“We are not watching _21 Jump Street_ again!” moaned Eleanor.

“We’re most definitely not watching _Twilight_ again,” cried Greg.

“Why do you have _Twilight_?” laughed Liam.

“Thank you,” Greg heaved a sigh of relief. “Someone gets it.”

“ _Twilight_ is the best love story, fuck you!”

“ _21 Jump Street_ is much better.”

“Does this always happen?” asked Zayn to Niall’s ear.

“Every damn time. But to be fair, I’m usually in there arguing for us to watch Harry Potter. Or _TFioS_.”

“Who wins?”

Niall exhales as if exhausted be this happening countless times in the past. “Denise, always.”

“Now that you’re not here, who’s gonna win?”

“I don’t know but as long as we don’t watch _Twilight_ or _21 Jump Street_ because I’ll fall asleep before it starts,” admitted Niall.

“Lie down.”

“What?”

“Lie down. Like cuddle,” Zayn said, shy all of a sudden.

“How?” asked Niall, trying not to sound breathless. Zayn pulled him down with him on the couch, Niall’s back to the end of the couch and his back to Niall’s chest. “Oh! Like a little spoon and big spoon?”

“Shut up,” murmured Zayn. He threaded their fingers on his stomach and suddenly it was quiet. Greg and Eleanor were not arguing, Liam was not inputting movie suggestions and the TV was on pause.

“Are you two quite finished?” Eleanor asked. “We’d love to start.”

“Fuck you, El,” shouted Niall above Zayn’s head. “What are we watching anyway?” The TV read _The Grand Budapest Hotel_ and Niall cheered. “Up top Denise, great choice as always.”

“Thank you darling.”

“Is this why you sometimes not get into the movie fights?”

Niall muffled his chuckles on Zayn’s neck. “Denise and I share movie interests so I never mind when she picks the movie.”

Zayn squeezed his hand and leaned back into his chest. Niall for sure thought he was going to get a heart failure before the 20th minute of the movie, or he would melt into white chocolate from Zayn’s heat. And the smell of mint. And leather. And faint cigarettes. Melt from the smell of Zayn, he sure would, instead he, for the first time, fell asleep to the circles Zayn was thumbing on his hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm thought i'd use fan art for once =P and for once i'm on time for an update.  
> hope you liked it ?? KUDOS & COMMENTS are much appreciated, love hearing ALL your thoughts (seriously, i do) and take care ☺
> 
> tutu !!


	16. Best Friend Tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall and Zayn partake in the popular Best Friend tag on Eleanor's Youtube channel.

****

> **Growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I’m glad for that.  
>     ~ Ally Condie**

“Liam, where are you?” Eleanor asked over the phone.

 _London_.

“Where in London?”

_At lunch with Harry._

“Eurgh!” She could _hear_ his eye roll over the phone. “When will you be done?”

_I’m guessing the right answer is ‘soon.’ knowing you._

“Great. By four you should be done?”

_Yep... What’s this about?_

“Come to Niall’s at four.”

_Um… why?_

But Eleanor had hung up and Liam was left confused. His lunch with Harry ended before three and thereafter drove to Niall’s house. He rang the bell and Eleanor opened, greeting him happily.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

“Patience.” She led him to the living room where she had her purple laptop set up and all. “Sit.”

“Feel like I’m in an interview,” he said sitting down and placing his jacket on the couch near him.

“You remember at M’s tea party when you said Ziall were close and I didn’t know what you meant and said no, they weren’t?”

“You call Niall and Zayn, Ziall?”

“Seriously?” asked Eleanor dubiously. “I am trying to explain and show you something and you’re asking me what I call Niall and Zayn.”

“Okay, okay, continue.”

“So Niall came up to me and was wondering on how to make people like Zayn again like before.” Liam narrowed his eyes. “It’s one of his 2016 goals. So I gave him some suggestions and he agreed, to one of them.”

“Which one?”

“You know how on Youtube there are tags, like Boyfriend tags, Girlfriend tags….”

“Oh yeah,” Liam quirked up. “I do. Troye did one with what’shisface and that’s all Niall could talk about for weeks.”

Eleanor raised one eyebrow slowly. “Yes… that one. So I suggested he do one for a Best Friend tag with Zayn… and he agreed— _they_ agreed.”

“Really?”

Eleanor nodded. “So, two days ago they filmed it and I’ve been editing it ever since, wanting to cut some parts and all that, and it’s finished. So you’re here to give me your thoughts and opinions before I post it.”

“You actually filmed them? And whose Youtube channel are you using?”

“Mine,” She swatted the back of Liam’s head. “Who else?”

“I don’t know, Troye Sivan?”

“Because Niall is so close to him,” she snorted. “Anyway, are you ready?”

Liam drummed his fingers on his lap. “This is going to be weird I can feel it.”

“It was,” said Eleanor, “Ready?”

“Should we have, I don’t know, snacks or drinks?” suggested Liam. A minute or two later with chardonnay and Pringles, they were sat on proper chairs and a table ( _need to be focused_ , argued Eleanor) and she pressed play.

_“Hi guys! Today’s video is going to be a little different, as you can already tell from the title. I’ve done the Best Friend tag on my Channel before with Niall but today I’ll be filming a Best Friend tag video but not of myself but with Niall and Zayn Malik. Enjoy!”_

“Here we go,” said Liam ominously as the screen switched from Eleanor to Niall and Zayn. They looked as if they were seated on a couch, or bed — he could not tell — but it looked like it was in Eleanor’s room. “Is this your room?”

“Sssh!”

_“Hi everyone!” Niall greets, waving his hand wildly. “I’m not a Youtuber, clearly,” Zayn snorts sat beside him on the bed, “but I asked El if I can use her Channel to make a Best Friend tag with my,” he turns to a smiling Zayn, “best friend, Zayn. Say hi, Zayn.”_

_“Hi.”_

“Does he look shy or what?” commented Liam.

“He was nervous the whole time,” said Eleanor reaching for her wine glass.

_“According to Youtuber Eleanor, a Best Friend tag goes with one of us picking a question that El wrote down in this box,” Niall raises a square red box, “and whoever picks the question, asks it to the other person… right?” His eyes shift up to someone behind the camera._

_“Yeah.”_

_He nods to the camera. “Seems simple. Ready?”_

_“When you are,” answers Zayn._

“What’s that song playing?” inquired Liam.

“Is it that loud?” questioned Eleanor.

“It’s not,” he quickly assured her, “but it’s nice and I was just asking.”

“Thank goodness! It’s one of Zayn’s songs, _wRoNg_.”

“Good choice!”

“Niall picked it.”

_“You first,” Niall says holding the red box towards Zayn. Zayn reaches into the box and pulls out an amber colored paper._

_“Favourite celebrity crush?” he reads the paper. “Am I supposed to say mine or do I guess yours?”_

_“El?” Niall asks looking behind the camera._

_“Zayn is supposed to answer the question on the paper in regards to Niall. So in this case, Niall’s celebrity crush.”_

_“Troye Sivan.”_

“That was an easy one,” Liam snorted. “Everyone who meets Niall within 15 minutes already knows about Troye Sivan’s life history and how they’re getting married in 2020.”

“Agreed.”

_“Am I to ask as well? Or it’s just Zayn answering?” inquires Niall. As Eleanor answers, Zayn brings his feet up, sitting like a pretzel on the bed._

_“It’s meant to only be Zayn answering but let’s make this more interesting to see if you’re each other’s true best friends. So, both of you answer.”_

_“Zayn’s celeb crush has got to be Frank Ocean.”_

“Is that true?” asked Liam crunching on crisps.

“Yup.”

 _Niall reaches inside the red box and picks out a cherry paper. “Favourite movie. That’s easy._ Deadpool _.”_

 _“Am I that predictable?” chuckles Zayn. “I am getting a new favourite film now. You have plenty but I’d have to say any_ Harry Potter _film.”_

_Niall throws the paper behind him as Zayn picks another. “When did you both first meet and where?”_

_“X Factor,” blurts Niall._

_“I think the question is now, like, when we met as best friends not as bandmates,” supplies Zayn._

_“Oh.”_

_“We met on Twitter in January,” says Zayn to the camera. “And it was Niall who talked to me first, tweeting me, ‘Hey’ and I replied thereafter.”_

_Niall grunts at Zayn, not unkindly, “You’re making me sound like a stalker.”_

“He was, really.”

“How?” asked Liam.

“He had been debating on whether he should talk to Zayn or not, for days on end. It was honestly becoming a bore.”

Liam made a noncommittal hum and pressed play.

_“Weren’t you?” he teases and Niall shoves him playfully. He takes out a baby pink paper._

_“What TV show is he most likely to be watching?” Niall reads. He blinks at the camera, thinking. Zayn reaches to his right and in his hand are several red gummy bears which he pops into his mouth. “Anything, really. Zayn doesn’t really watch shows, he watches whatever.”_

_“Whatever?”_

_“Yeah, whatever. Like you don’t start nor finish TV shows, you just find them in the middle and go with the flow.”_

_To the Camera, Zayn disagrees. “That’s wrong because I’ve been into_ The Walking Dead _lately.”_

_“That’s what Eleanor was watching and you watched it with her because she was watching it already.”_

_“And I’ve been watching ever since.”_

_Niall rolls his eyes. “Fine._ Walking Dead _.”_

 _“Yours is_ New Girl _.”_

_Niall picks a coral red paper. “What languages does he speak apart from English? Zayn speaks fluent Urdu and conversational Arabic.”_

_“Niall only speaks English,” he cheekily says._

_“Heeey!” Niall says, in mock offense. “I’m re-learning French. Plus you’ve been teaching me a little Arabic.”_

_“Oh yeah? Do you remember anything?”_

_“Assalam Alaikum means ‘Hello’” He looks to Zayn and, his eyes widening, slowly shakes his head. “No. You said it… what was it?... It means ‘Peace be upon you.’ And Inshallah.”_

_“That’s cause I say it all the time.”_

_“And you say Yaallah to Jawaad always. What does that mean?”_

_“Let’s go,” he replies, smiling happily.He picks a coffee colored paper and reads it to the camera. “Do you have a secret handshake?”_

_“Nope.”_

_“We should get one.”_

_“We’ll think of one,” says Niall. “Soon.”_

_“Or it might be like the nickname disaster.”_

_Niall cackles. “Oh, the nickname. So I’ve been looking for a nickname for Zayn and none of them have pleased him despite me praising myself that my nicknames would kick ass.”_

_Zayn shakes his head at the camera, smiling despite himself._

_“But I will,” Niall tells him, “I’ll find you a nickname. I’ve still got time. I’ve got a nickname to find and together we’ve got to have a secret handshake.”_

_Niall disappears off camera then and Zayn picks a peach colored paper from the red box. He comes back with a bottle of Sprite._

_“Favourite song right now?” asks Zayn reading the paper. “Yours would be any Troye Sivan song.”_

_“Obviously,” Niall chuckles softly._

_“But right now…” Zayn gazes at Niall, “I’d say_ Ophelia _by The Lumineers.” Niall’s expression reads surprise. “What?”_

 _Niall shrugs looking down. “Didn’t think you’d know that to be honest.” Zayn pats his shoulder in response. “Yours would be_ See You Again _by Wiz Khalifa and someone. Who else sings in the song?” Zayn shrugs. “You’ve been listening to it on repeat, how don’t you know who else is singing with Khalifa?”_

_“I don’t. I should Google who it is.”_

“Charlie Puth obviously,” Liam screamed at the screen. “It’s Charlie Puth, how don’t you know that?”

“Calm your tits, Liam.”

_“It’s Charlie. Puth.” Zayn looks up from his phone. “Who’s that?”_

_“Ohh! It’s the guy who sang_ Some Type Of Love _.”_

_“Still dunno who that is.” He hands Niall the square box. “Your turn.”_

_“Best physical feature,” reads Niall and his cheeks turn as pink as the baby pink paper he is holding. “Eyelashes.”_

_“Seriously?” he chuckles softly, “my eyelashes are my best features?”_

_“What would you say?”_

_“Cheekbones,” he promptly answers and Niall rolls his eyes. “Is that my second?”_

_“Second is your beard.”_

“I agree with all answers, everything is physically the best with Zayn,” sighed Eleanor.

“I’m sure Gigi agrees.”

Eleanor harrumphed and they turned back to the laptop.

_“… are your blue eyes,” says Zayn. Niall’s cheeks deepen to a darker pink. “I think they’re perfectly blue. Like the water advert.” Niall laughs._

“Is… is Niall blushing?” Liam leaned to the laptop. “He is! He’s literally blushing!”

“Welcome to my life since January,” said Eleanor nonchalantly.

“Why on earth is he blushing?”

_“Moving on,” says Niall taking a fuchsia colored paper. “First hangout slash date.”_

_“First date?” Zayn frowns. “Like a restaurant or the first time we hanged out?”_

_“I think hang out.”_

_“When we went candle shopping,” chuckles Zayn and Niall laughs louder. “We—I was—my cousin was throwing a party and I was on candle duty so I told Niall this and he said that he knew this place in L.A. that solely sold candles,” he turns back to the camera, “and when he was in L.A. we went to the candle shop.”_

_“And you didn’t know what votive rounds were.”_

_Zayn shakes his head at the camera, his hand inside the square box. “I really didn’t. They’re all candles to me. But Niall, he’s like a candle guru.”_

_“Votive rounds are a type of candle not just a candle.”_

_Zayn rolls his eyes, then under his breath he says really quickly, “Candles.”_

_“Type of candle.”_

_“Candle,” he says but he sounds distracted as he is reading the next question._

_“Type of candle,” Niall insists to the camera._

“How long does this go on for?”

“Long. I had to edit it out as they kept doing this for five minutes,” explained Eleanor.

 _“What is his talent?” Zayn reads from the sapphire paper. “He’s quite talented.” He gazes at Niall. “Very talented. So good at everything, really. But something I think he’s talented at, apart from singing and song writing and playing guitar and piano and ukulele and drums_ and _violin, is golfing.”_

_“Is that a talent though?”_

_“Yeah it is. I’m rubbish at it.”_

_“Lazy at it,” Niall stage-whispers._

_“And also because it’s such a bore!” Zayn shifts off camera from being shoved by Niall. “It’s truuue!”_

_Niall shakes his head as he thinks of an answer to the question. “Zayn’s talent would be—oh! This is insane. You can do that thing where you take a cherry stick on your tongue, do your magic, and then voila! He’s tied a knot in the cherry stick.”_

_“Is_ that _a talent?” laughs Zayn, leaning into Niall’s side._

“Zayn can do that?” asked Liam flabbergasted.

Eleanor nodded enthusiastically. “He really can. I didn’t believe Niall when he said it so he Skyped Zayn and he did it. It was insane.” When they turned back to the video, they caught the end of Niall’s sentence.

_“… and gambling. Alright, my turn. Just FYI,” he raises his hand to the camera waving the lilac piece of paper, “I’m surprised that El managed to have a different colored paper for each question. How long have you been best friends? Since 2010.”_

_“I don’t think so,” disagrees Zayn. “I think we’ve been best friends since this year, when we started talking after my leaving the band.”_

_“But, like, we’ve been friends since 2010.”_

_“_ Best _friends. We were close in the band but not best friends.”_

_“Fine, agreed. So this year?” he asks and Zayn nods in agreement. He turns to the camera. “We’ve been best friends since January.”_

_“You’re right though, it’s like each paper is a different color,” says Zayn holding a crimson paper. “Who is his best friend apart from you? Calder, of course.”_

_Niall grins. “Of course. But Harry’s my friend, too.”_

_“I feel as if you are best friends with everyone!”_

“True,” Liam munched on crisps, “so true. He’s best friends with the bartender at his favourite pub.”

_“Not true.”_

_Zayn levels him with a look. “You called the guy who gave you your phone when you accidentally dropped it at the mall your best friend.”_

_Niall runs his fingers through his hair. “Fine, maybe I do but those are just_ close _friends. Apart from you, it’d be Willie, Harry and El. Though El’s more like my sister.”_

_“How can you have like a thousand best friends?” questions Zayn and Eleanor, who is still behind the camera, loudly agrees. “See! Even Calder agrees. S’like you have seasonal best friends”_

_Niall scoffs out chuckles. “Seasonal best friends? You just made that up.”_

_“So?”_

_“Willie has been my best friend since childhood, Harry was my best friend in One Direction, and still is, and we bonded over golf, El’s basically like a sister and then of course you,” he explains. “You’ve been a comfort in my life there was chaos.” They hold each other’s gaze for a moment and Niall is the first to look away._

_“You should TM that.”_

_“Course,” he says, still not looking at Zayn. Zayn arches his neck and kisses his jaw._

_“You too,” he whispers and it is heard on camera._

_“Your best friend—I honestly dunno. It used to be Anthony.”_

_“You. You’re my best friend.”_

Niall beamed, literally beamed at Zayn who has a small smile on his lips but his eyes are twinkling. “Look at Niall and that smile! He’s literally glowing!”

“Right?” giggled Eleanor.

_“The question says apart from me,” Niall softly reminds him._

_“My cousin Jawaad.”_

“I honestly thought he was going to say Gigi.”

“Me too,” agrees Liam.

_“What is something you wish he didn’t do?” reads Niall from a dark magenta paper. “I wish that Zayn would stop downplaying what he feels. Stop rolling your eyes. It’s true.” To the camera he says, “He does that when someone says something that’s true and he doesn’t want to admit it.”_

_“Do not!” he protests. “I wish that you,” he says turning to Niall, “would stop living in your head.” A moment passes between them and Niall nods curtly. Zayn takes a khaki paper from the box and reads it: What was your last road trip like?” He looks up at the camera. “I hate road trips so we’ve never been on one.”_

_“He’s so boring!”_

_“Road trips are so annoying.”_

_“How?”_

_He shrugs, munching on gummy bears. “I don’t—Just annoying. I guess just the driving part of a road trip. I like the destination of a road trip just not the road part. I don’t know if that makes sense?”_

_“It does,” Niall assures. “Camping would be better then.”_

_“We did go camping.”_

_“Fake camping.”_

__

_To the camera Zayn explains: “So when Niall and I were talking one day and I told him I don’t like road trips and, as always, he was dramatic about the whole thing. So he suggested that we should go camping. It was in his backyard, with him, his cousin, Eleanor and Willie and we—”_

_“Can you still not pronounce my cousin’s name?”_

_Zayn looks like he has been caught in daylights. He blinks at Niall, his jaw hanging. “Y-yeah. It’s a hard name to pronounce.”_

_“Eóghan is not that hard.”_

_“Is too.”_

_“Is not.”_

_“Is too. You’ve had your entire life to say his name whereas I’ve had like twice… or thrice.”_

_“It’s Eóghan.”_

_“Still can’t say it. Anyway, it was the five of us camping in Niall’s backyard.”_

_Niall is pointedly looking at Zayn’s side profile. “Eóghan.”_

_“And it was a good time. Thank goodness it didn’t rain.”_

_“Eó-ghan.”_

_“It was in the middle of March and knowing London rainfall was pretty high.”_

_He is repeatedly poking Zayn’s unshaven jaw. “E-ó-ghan.”_

_“I’m still rubbish and making fire so that was Willie and Niall’s duty.”_

_“Eóghan!”_

_“Stop that!” Zayn punches his arm playfully._

_“Just say it.”_

“How long does this go on for?”

Judging from Eleanor’s long sigh, he presumed a long time. “Had to cut lots and lots scenes when it was Niall saying Eóghan and Zayn explaining the camping trip.”

_“First impression about the other?” reads Niall from a barn red paper. “Of when exactly? When we met?” Eleanor agrees from behind the camera. “Alright. Well, my first impression was ‘Why is he wearing leather?’”_

_Zayn raises an eyebrow Niall’s way, fighting back a smile. “Seriously?”_

_“You looked like those 90s people who wore leather twenty-foour-seven though now that I think about it… there’s no difference.”_

_“Idiot,” Zayn chuckles, shaking his head. “My first impression was: ‘He’s here with me.’” Niall cocks a questioning eyebrow. “Because of what happened between us last year, I still didn’t think you’d show up… and you did.”_

_“You didn’t think I’d come?”_

“I didn’t,” admitted Elenoar.

“I wouldn’t have,” said Liam chewing on crisps.

_Zayn shakes his head at Niall, his eyes slightly wide. Niall softens around the edges and has a small smile, as if reserved just for Zayn, and mouths something the camera does not catch but what it is makes Zayn beam at the Irish._

_Eleanor clears her throat loudly, their moment dissipating. Zayn picks a blue-green paper and reads from it: “What song describes the other?” Zayn narrows his eyes deep in thought. “Oh gosh, this is so hard... you go first.”_

_“Nah-uh,” Niall shakes his head, “I’m also thinking of a song.”_

“The first question neither of them knew the answer to,” Eleanor cheered triumphantly.

“I wonder what he will say for Niall,” he voiced his thoughts out loud.

 _“I think_ Trouble _by Avicii describes you best at the moment.”_

_“Hmm. Guess who’s going to download Avicii today?” announces Niall to the camera. “What album?”_

_“Stories.”_

_Niall nods briefly, looks as if in thought, and answers the question. “I’d say_ Outro _by M83. Not so much the words but everything else,” he says, all the while gazing at Zayn. “The drums, the guitar, cello, all the instruments, how the song builds up, takes you to a new high and even when it’s about to end, it’s just as gentle as it first began.”_

_“Looks like we’ve both got new playlists,” Zayn breathes an exhale._

_“What is one thing that scares you about the other person?” reads Niall from the grey paper. “What scares me about Zayn… is that… he’ll stop being friends with me.”_

_“That scares you?” asks Zayn, genuinely interested and surprised._

_“So everyone knows that after the Billboard Awards Zayn and I weren’t talking and it’s because I was a right dickhead. I messed up and for weeks we weren’t friends and—it was a horrible feeling.” Zayn’s song, which has been on repeat since the beginning of the video, plays as the two do not say anything to each other. “Cause we weren’t friends, we weren’t talking at all.”_

_Zayn’s face softens at that then he answers the question, “What scares me about you is that we’ll stop talking.”_

_“But that’ll never happen cause we talk all the time.”_

_“There was that one time,” says Zayn and his voice is low and oh so quiet, “when you weren’t talking. It’s like you shut everyone out and it was a bit scary. You scared me.”_

_“I like to get away sometimes and forget that there are people around me. Who care.”_

__

_Zayn frowns at him. “I care.” He wraps his arms around Niall’s shoulders, his head buried in Niall’s neck. Niall ends up leaning into the hug that sends them tumbling backwards and off camera, only their knees being seen._

“What was happening?”

“They were hugging,” said Eleanor nonchalantly. She refills her wine glass. “Why do you keep asking obvious things?”

Liam opened his mouth to protest that no, this is not hugging, it looked like something more than just a hug. Was Eleanor not hearing what _he_ was hearing? Was she not hearing the deeper meaning to what scares each of them about the other? “No reason,” he said, his voice cool in contrast to his agitated mind.  He turned back to the screen to Zayn reading from a turquoise colored paper.

_“What is the one thing he is good at and bad at?” reads Zayn. “One thing that Niall… is good at is interior design,” he says to the camera. “He’s proper talented, actually.”_

_“Thanks,” murmurs Niall, cheeks bright pink._

_“And one thing he is bad at is, most definitely, cooking.”_

_Niall gasps. “I am not bad at cooking.”_

_“Yeah, you’re pathetic,” laughs Zayn. Niall picks a pillow off camera and hits Zayn square in the face who falls back on the bed._

_“I am good at cooking just so you know.”_

_“You burnt rice,” says Zayn deadpan. “Without the rice in it.” Niall narrows his eyes at Zayn. “Basically you burnt water!”_

_“You’re a cunt,” Niall says, good naturedly._

_“You’re a fucker,” chuckles Zayn, then winks. Niall immediately looks away, head ducked down for a moment before he looks up to the camera and answers the question._

_“He has good things he is… good at, to be honest. But one good thing he is good at is being a mixologist. He can mix drinks like a proper bartender. Aaaaand one bad thing is… um… well… nothing, really.” Zayn brings his lips to Niall’s ear and whispers something that the camera does not catch. “But you’re good at that.”_

_“Really?”_

Liam watched Niall nod as he asked, “What did he say?”

“Wouldn’t bloody tell me!” she huffed.

_“Have you met his parents?” Niall reads the next question from a lime colored paper. “Yes,” he says, the both of them laughing. “Oh, we’ve definitely met. When I was going to Bradford to apologize to Zayn for being a wanker, I didn’t realize his entire family was there but because I was on a mission, I stayed. I met his a thousand cousins—”_

_“They aren’t that many,” groans Zayn._

_“They are,” he stage-whispers to the camera. “So anyway, I met his a billion cousins and Zayn wasn’t there,” he quickly glances to Zayn, “but he finally came and I got to apologizing and one thing led to another, I puked on his mother’s expensive red carpet. And that’s how I met his mother.”_

_“What a tale!”_

_“I know!” he faux squeals. “But it was mortifying guys, the worst day of my life.”_

_“You bought her a new carpet though.”_

_“And she likes me a little more now.”_

_“Yeah, they bonded at Maura’s tea party.”_

_Niall beams at Zayn. “We did. Your turn.”_

_“I met your parents at your mom’s tea party and it was fantastic,” says Zayn as his hand digs into the square box. “She makes world-class pastries. No joke.” Niall spontaneously kisses his shoulder blade. “Who said ‘I love you’ first as best friends?” Zayn looks up at the camera. “I did.”_

_“He did!”_

_“I was not in a good place and I had come to visit Niall. So as we were watching Harry Potter, he had been secretly separating the red gummy bears from the rest and he gave me a bowl of just red gummy bears and. That was sweet.”_

_“And the whiskey.”_

_“Oh yeah. He got me a bottle of Glenfiddich too with a tub of ice-cream.”_

If Liam squinted extra hard, if he zoomed in, he could see Zayn soft and small as Niall beamed at him. He was looking at Niall, not taking his eyes off him, and blinked. Liam felt like he was intruding, like the camera was catching onto a moment that was just for Zayn **and** Niall, not for the _entire world_ to see. How Eleanor could not see this was beyond him, really.

_“My turn,” Niall says, “and how many questions have we been doing?”_

_“Many,” Zayn disappears off camera, “because I want to smoke but Calder will slaughter me if I dare light a match in her room.”_

_“DON’T YOU DARE, MALIK!”_

_“I wasn’t,” Zayn knowingly smirks and to the camera he says, “See? Slaughtered.”_

_“What is he afraid of?” reads Niall from a rose paper. “Heights.”_

_“Birds flying inside,” answers Zayn promptly. He digs his hand inside the square box as Niall takes a sip of his Sprite. “What annoys you most about him?” Zayn looks cheekily at the camera. “Hmm?”_

_“Eager to answer, I see,” says Niall in mock hurt. “What annoys me most about you—m”_

_“It’s my turn!”_

_“Is that,” he says, voice octaves higher than Zayn’s, “you’re still vain. Like there was this one time where me, El and Zayn were going out, right? So we’re all dressed and Zayn’s nowhere close. We literally watched like two episodes of The Walking Dead and when Zayn said he was ready, El noticed that his shirt was a littled crissed so,” he stresses as Zayn rolls his eyes yet again, “he had to change, not just his shirt but his entire outfit. Fuck me!”_

_“If I took a shorter time to dress I’d look like…” he pointedly looks to Niall, letting his sentence trail. It hits Niall, seconds later, and he gawks at Zayn, his eyes narrowing._

_“I dress amazingly.”_

_“Malik dresses better!”_

_Zayn preens at the compliment from Eleanor behind the camera and Niall throws his arms in the air. “I give up.” He picks a black paper and reads: “His favorite fruit? Easy. Tangerine.”_

_“Kiwi. Next one asks: Best part about being best friends? I think it’s—”_

_“So you’re just going to skip my turn?” asks Zayn. Niall curses and cackles at the same time. “Alright, I see this is how it goes then.”_

_“That’s for the clothes comment, wanker.” Zayn rolls his eyes, lips in a smirk. “I think the best thing about us being best friends is that you’re my comfort… when,” Niall exhales, eyes fixed on something off camera, “not everything is going right. When all is going wrong, you’re there.”_

_Zayn’s gaze lingers on Niall, his lips slightly parted and his hand inching towards Niall. It looks like someone pulling Zayn towards Niall as his body presses to Niall’s side, arms coming round to scratch Niall’s hair as his lips press to his jaw. Next, Niall holds onto Zayn’s arm as he pulls them backwards, disappearing off camera._

__

“What the fuck is happening? What were they doing?”

“Hugging. Talking. I don’t know.”

“But you were there,” grunted Liam, setting his wine glass down. He stared at the screen, the seconds passing by, and still Zayn and Niall were off camera. There was a loud chuckle heard – definitely Niall – but mostly it was hushed tones. “You seriously don’t know what they were doing? It’s been like three minutes now.”

“Eleven seconds Liam, not three minutes.”

“When you’re watching a video when the characters are off screen it feels long.” He stopped when Niall’s laugh was loud and long. “What were they doing on the bed?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“How are you so blind?” he questioned but Eleanor did not reply as Zayn appeared on the screen first.

_He clears his throat, awkwardly. “Right.” He turns behind him. “Get up Niall, we’ve got a video to do.” Niall laughs still lying on the bed. “Niall!” Zayn chuckles, “get up. The camera is rolling and pretty sure Calder already hates us for so much editing she’ll have to do.”_

_“But I’m so comfortable. How do you have a better bed than mine El?”_

_“Get up you idiot!”_

_“Wow! Such hostility. It was only a question, El.”_

_“Shut it, Nini!”_

_Zayn disappears off the camera, a loud half-sigh half-groan heard, and seconds later, Zayn is back on the camera with flaming-red-cheeks Niall who is ruffling his hair to normalness. “My hair looks flat.”_

_“Looks fine,” mumbles Zayn as his eyes are on the apricot colored paper._

_“You didn’t answer the question Zayn!”_

_“Really? Oh. Right, yeah. Um, what was—oh right, best thing about being best friends,” he basically is talking to himself as Niall muffles his growing smile behind his hand. “There’re so many things like I look forward to Mondays, I actually like Harry Potter though not a fan like Niall, I do think Mr Bean is funny… you introduce to new things, every day,” he says them both locking eyes with each other, “You make me feel like I can be myself. You like me the way I am.”_

_“Who wouldn’t love you the way you are?” coos Niall._

_Zayn shrugs in response and asks the next question on a silver paper. “Do you exchange gifts? Yeah we do.” He raises his right and with one red ring on his index finger and another on his middle finger. “He got me this red_ Deadpool _ring, looks sick. He got me a kitten, Malfoy, which was the best thing ever,” he glances to Niall, his hand brushing his cheek. Niall leans into the touch, loudly smiling at Zayn. “You’ve given me so much.”_

_Niall is shaking his head at Zayn, the brightest grin painted on his Irish face. “Not true.” Zayn shakes his head, as his way of disagreeing with Niall. Instead, Niall clears his throat, his head ducked as he, “Uhh…” on the next question._

_“He got me a year’s subscription to Golf Digest, a platinum – the best there is – membership to the Golf Resort Country Club which is a worldwide country club for golfers which I still can’t believe he got me in.” He squeezes Zayn in a surprise hug and a couple of red gummy bears fall of Zayn’s hands. “Ooh, how could I forget? I got a gift card for Guinness that is worth 1, 000 Guinnesses. I am drinking myself into alcoholism, seriously.”_

_Eleanor and Zayn laugh as Niall picks the next question from the red box._

_Niall reads the next question: Favorite drink at Starbucks. Niall chuckles, body leaning on Zayn as he does._

_“This is such a Calder question.”_

_“It so is and this is going to be fun answering!” says Niall in between laughs._

_“Fucking fun, is what.”_

_“Okay, so Zayn is not allowed in Starbucks. Kind of.” Zayn rolls his eyes, munching on gummy bears. “Well, this is what happened. Me, him and El were in London waiting for Liam to show up so that we could go to this pig fight. El said we should go to Starbucks as we wait for Payno and we did. I ordered a—”_

_“Bubblegum frappuccino, of course,” Zayn interrupts._

_“Yeah… actually. That answers_ that _question,” says Niall then addresses the camera. “So we ordered, El hers, me a frappuccino and Zayn technically couldn’t order a drink. He had been at another Starbucks in Bradford where he apparently got into a fight with the barista and one thing led to another he was banned from that Starbucks. What Zayn did not know is that word had gotten round the Starbucks shops… or whatever about the fight so there’s this photo of Zayn in nearly every Starbucks shop in London and he will not be served until he publicly apologizes to Starbucks.”_

_“Fucking fun,” he repeats._

_“Honestly, just apologize, it was a misunderstanding.”_

_“No.”_

_Niall levels him with a look. “C’mon man, it’s like just a dumb….” The rest of the sentence is inaudible as his voice lowers in register until the camera cannot catch it._

_“Absolutely not.”_

_“So now Zayn doesn’t have favourite drink at Starbucks because he hates them. All,” giggles Niall. Niall looks into the red square box and woot woot’s. “We have one question left. What is the next thing you’re doing together that you’re excited for?”_

_Zayn scratches the side of his head. “We’ve got nothing planned….”_

_Niall bounces on the bed. “People’s Choice is in June!”_

_“Is that really a thing we’re—we didn’t plan for that.”_

_“True,” Niall’s shoulders sag, “but we’re going together. And we’re sitting together.”_

_“We don’t plan stuff, Niall and I,” he says to the camera. “Whatever happens, happens with us. We’re random in a way, no planning just. Random.”_

_“Yeah,” Niall wholeheartedly agrees. “We could plan for something now.”_

“Are they serious?”

“And I wasn’t bloody invited.” And it was the way Eleanor said it that sent Liam into fits of laughter.

_Zayn asks, “Alright, what do you want?”_

_“We’ve actually never gone out. Like in a club or summat.”_

_Zayn seems to be pondering on this. “That’s. True. So you’re in Aussie for the next four days, ish, and I’ll be here in London still. Where’re you gonna be your Aussie trip?”_

_“Here and there,” he vaguely answers._

_“How about New York? They have great clubs in New York,” suggests Zayn and Niall nods. “Next week?... Around Thursday, Friday, thereabout?”_

_“Yup.”_

_“Can I come?”_

_“No,” Niall says eyes shifting off camera to Eleanor. “It’s  guys night.”_

_“It is?” questions Zayn and he is smacked with a pillow. Niall gives him the ‘It’s not a guy’s night but let’s make it one, you cunt’ look and Zayn begins nodding fervently at Eleanor behind the camera._

_“Sorry, Calder, guys only.”_

_“You’re a shit liar, Malik!”_

_“You’re not invited, El!” yells Niall with a naughty smile dancing on his lips. He ducks in time when a green object flies in front of the screen at Niall._

_“Watch it idiot! Okay guys. Listen up, next week Thursday, Friday Zayn and I will be going out and that’s our plan we’re excited for,” Niall says, like announcing something huge like he is the King of England._

_“Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is,” smiles Zayn at Niall’s dramatics._

_“We’re going out!” he sing-songs. “We’re going to paint New York City red!”_

_“I think we’re done with questions,” says Zayn turning the box upside down and no colored papers fall out of it._

_The screen changes to Eleanor sitting in front of the camera with fairy lights behind her._

_“Alright darlings, that is all for today for the Best Friend tag video. There was a lot more but with editing and Niall talking incessantly too much and Zayn ducking off camera a lot the video turned out to be shorter than usual….”_

“The video is bloody 30 minutes long!” Liam exclaimed.

“It’s a little over 17 minutes,” she said with an eye roll.

_“… I hope you enjoyed it, nevertheless. Thumbs up if you liked the video, and don’t forget to subscribe. If you liked this video a lot maybe we’ll have more? In the future? I don’t know. Stay tuned. Bye!”_

Liam pressed pause on the video. “That was—”

“It’s not done!” exclaimed Eleanor.

“But you said bye…”

“I made after video edits!” True to her words, the Best Friend Tag video continued, starting with Niall hunched over what looked like a large book and Zayn rolling his eyes so hard. “This was funny…”

_“C’mon Niall, seriously? You actually got a Thesaurus out for this.”_

_“Course you wanker. I need to know another word for flirt.”_

“Why is he looking for another word for flirt?”

“He was looking for another word for flirt to describe Zayn’s personality.”

_Niall murmurs, “Flirt.” Under his breath as he looks for the word meanwhile Zayn is sipping on a brown, alcoholic liquid. “Found it. Flirt. Says here philander, dunno what that means, tease, playboy,” he laughs at that, “amorous, sounds like those Spanish soap operas.” Zayn snorts into his glass. “Coquettish, come-hither,” he looks up from the Thesaurus, “sounds like you to be honest.”_

_“I don’t have a come-hither personality.”_

_Niall reads on. “Seductive, dallying, vampish… Vampish?”_

_“What? Am I a vampire now?” questions Zayn and Niall giggles. “You’ve been watching_ Twilight _too much.”_

_“Blame Eleanor.”_

“You like Twilight?” asked Liam, in a condescending tone.

“It’s an amazing movie, Liam,” said Eleanor defensively.

“No it’s not. It’s a pathetic movie. So cliché, so unrealistic—”

“All movies are unrealistic Liam, that’s why they are called movies.”

_“Niall prefers to stay home, like a 90-year old man. Like it’d be seven-thirty and he’d say, ‘We should stay in.’ and I want to go out but he says it’s too late to go out as if the time says two in the morning._

_“I like chillin’ at home, Guinness in one hand, food in the other, with my feet up on the table in front of the TV.”_

_“90-year old.”_

_“You sleep all the damn time,” accuses Niall, “so who’s the 90-year old man now, huh?”_

_“Sleep is important.”_

_“You sleep all the time, anywhere and everywhere.” To the camera he says, “He could literally sit in the pub and lay his head on the bar and be like, ‘I’m just laying my head for a second’ and next thing you know Zayn’s blacked out. This actually happened, guys.  Snoring, he was, right there in the middle of the pub with loud music and everything.”_

_“That was once.”_

_“Thrice, you liar,” Niall corrects, laughing. “And he wonders why we never go out together….”_

_“I was sleepy.”_

_“Ha! Sleepy, he says. Sleepy when he’s the one who, three hours earlier, was stoked to go out than the rest of us…”_

“When was this?” laughs Liam.

“Like some months back. Eóghan and had come over and Zayn said we should go out. None of us were feeling it, Niall wanted to have a chill night, I wanted to edit my vlog but Zayn was insisting so we said, ‘What the hell, let’s go.’ Go, we did, and Zayn took one shot and slept right there at the bar.” Liam laughed, hunched forward on the table. “We tried waking up him but he kept pushing us saying he was sleepy and wanted a bed.” Liam slaps the table, having a laughing fit. “Eóghan tried getting him to drink but he couldn’t. He even slept near this couple who were licking each other’s faces off and there was Zayn, snoring happily.”

“Stop, stop! I’m going to pee!”

“It ended up being a good night, actually,” said Eleanor, sounding nostalgic of the night.

_“Troye Sivan is not just Niall’s celebrity crush, it’s much more. He’s always singing his songs, in the car, shower, house, humming as he is drinking Guinness. Every fibre of his being sings any song off his Blue Neighbourhood album. It could be TOO GOOD, BITE, YOUTH, eh, HEAVEN, whatever, he’ll be singing it._

_“You know his songs?” asks Niall, surprised._

_Zayn, for a moment, looks taken aback then quickly recovers by turning to the camera. “Troye is the apple to his pie, the straw to his berry—” He is cut off when Niall slaps his hand to Zayn’s mouth, muffling his next words. Zayn tries to pull his hand off his mouth but Niall clamps his mouth shut with his other hand. Niall pulls Zayn’s body down with him, effectively stopping him from further embarrassment._

_Or so he thinks._

_Zayn comes up and Niall looks like he is hiding his face behind Zayn’s back. “Like I was saying, Niall’s the sweet tooth and Troye’s the dentist, he’s the paper and Troye’s the pencil, he’s the butter to his jelly, the hero to his sidekick… basically, it’s like Troye completes Niall. Troye is_ it _for Niall.”_

_Niall snorts from behind Zayn’s back. “Thought you didn’t like clichés?”_

_“You’re one big, walking cliché. Niall adores Troye if that wasn’t clear. But he can’t be assed to talk to him.”_

_“Can too,” he mumbles coming out from hiding behind Zayn._

_“Talk about the ship names!”_

_Niall glares at Eleanor behind the camera and Zayn lights up, excitedly bouncing on the bed. “I’m not even taking the piss when I say this but on Niall’s fridge, he has the different ship names for himself and Troye Sivan. There is Triall, Noye, Soran, Hivan, Siall, Troan, which sounds terrible, Soran, oh wait, I said that, there was – oh what was it – Sivall! I love that ship name, s’my favorite. Sivall.”_

_“You’re editing this out, El, I swear you are,” threatens Niall._

_“Please don’t,” laughs Zayn. “Please keep this on, then maybe Troye will see this video and you two will finally meet. Sivall. The Guinness to your heart.”_

_And Niall stills. His hands are being held down by Zayn on top of his lap, his cheeks reddening by the second, and his eyes look like they are drinking in Zayn. Then, randomly, Niall lets his head fall on Zayn’s shoulder, hidden from the camera._

_“Guinness to my heart?” chuckles Niall._

_“It was a spur-of-the-moment.”_

_“It’s cliché.”_

_“It’s not.”_

_“Is too,” insists Niall who circles his arms round Zayn and kisses his jawline loudly._

_“Is not.”_

_“But you love it.”_

_“Maybe.”_

_“That means yes,” he beams at the camera then nuzzles his nose in Zayn’s chocolate hair. “Love you, my Ravenclaw.”_

_“Love you, my Slytherin.”_

_“Whoo!” cheers Niall, pulling them both off camera and landing onto the floor with a thud._

“Zayn’s in Ravenclaw?” asked Liam, utterly shocked.

“Yup and Nini is in Slytherin.”

“How did I not _know_ this?” Liam stared gobsmacked at the screen.

 

 **~    ~    *    ~    ~**  


****

“And we’re back. That was Rihanna’s single _Work_ off her new album, ANTI,” announced Smallzy. “If you’re joining right now, welcome, welcome. I’m your host, Smallzy, and here, today, we’ve got Niall Horan in studios. Welcome to Smallzy’s Surgery, Niall.”

“Thanks Kent.”

“Not many people know my real name, by the way.”

“Really?” laughed Niall.

“Yeah. Whenever I tell people my real name I can see the cogs working in their brain trying to see what is the connection between Kent and Smallzy.”

“What _is_ the connection?” he asked curiously.

“My last name is Small.”

“No way!”

“Yup. So Niall, enjoying Australia?”

“Aussie is great, Kent. I always love coming back to Australia, keep saying it’s like my second home.”

“Australia is an amazing country.”

“The best. After Ireland, of course.”

Smallzy laughed in response and moving onto his questions. “So Niall, your new single, _Human_ , has hit the ground running. It is fantastic, got many requests for it since its debut at the Youtube Awards and we just can’t get enough of it. I mean, even the charts are loving your song. Number one in 58 countries!”

Niall blushed and laughed nervously. “Thank you.”

“What inspired the song?”

“It’s essentially about us, humans, the angst of being human and how we’ll never be perfect. We are able to feel difficult things such as weaknesses, failures, guilt, troubles, and all but we find it hard to express, a limitation to our humanity.”

“That’s powerful,” said Smallzy. “It’s brilliant, the song, and it sounds very, very mature. Something that sounds very different from One Direction.”

Niall nodded, smiling at Smallzy. “That’s true. That is the first feedback I got from everyone I sang the song with. Steve, my manager, thought I was taking the piss when I told him _Human_ was my next single. My Management didn’t think that the song was me, it was more R &B style and I’m more of a Pop, Alternative lad but…” he shrugged his shoulders, letting his sentence trail.

“But it all worked out, didn’t it?”

“It did.”

“And we absolutely love it. In fact, why don’t we play it now?” suggested Smallzy. “Why don’t you introduce us the song…”

“Ho-how do I…” he laughed, the nerves getting to him. “Um, this is Niall on Smallzy’s Surgery and up next is my single, _Human_.”

The song played on the radio, and several songs thereafter and they were back, live on the Australian night radio show.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” asked Smallzy.

Niall scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know, actually. I think I’ll have a quiet night in.”

“It’s like what Zayn said,” chuckled Smallzy. “He said you like to spend the night in.”

Niall facepalmed. “You’ve seen that?”

“Who hasn’t?”

Who had not indeed? The last week had been rocked by Eleanor’s video of, what everyone was now calling them, Ziall. The video was dropped by surprise and it was only Eleanor’s fans who saw the video with a mere 4.3 million views but it spread like wildfire when Directioners caught on. Then ZQUAD, Troye Sivan fans, then other fandoms joined in, and soon it seemed like everyone was watching the Best Friend tag video. The video count rose to 46.7 million views by its third day, and fourth day it tripled in number and it kept rising, higher and higher.

Articles started slow, then kept popping left, right, and centre. They talked of the questions, they talked of Ziall being best friends, discussed their chemistry, about how the then vs now of Zayn and Niall, and by extension One Direction.

The GIFs were suddenly everywhere, the photos, snapshots, small videos of moments in the Tag video that people found adorable, endearing, and even quotes. There were memorable phrases that Zayn said to Niall, and Niall to Zayn that it was engraved in aesthetic photos, Bios, graves even. Sort of.

Word got to Troye Sivan about Niall’s largest crush on him. Yes, Troye Sivan, if he was not aware before, now knew of Niall’s mega crush on him. He tweeted Niall to which Niall collapsed on the street when he was with Liam at the sight of it. Liam thought he had fainted, and he might as well have, because, _whatthebloodyfuck_ TROYE. SIVAN. TWEETED. HIM! Liam spent a good time holding him up as Niall swore his lungs collapsed inside of him and all the bones in his body metamorphosed into white liquid.

Sivall became a thing faster than one could say, well, Sivall. Now, the Ziall and Sivall fandoms were rivals: on one side people (still) shipped Ziall as a romance and the other side was Sivall, diehard Sivalls because, well, Niall admitted on crushing on Troye but never Zayn.

And besides, Zayn had a girlfriend.

 _Irrelevant_ , the Ziall fandom argued. If Niall secretly was rooting for them, on their side (duh!) then no one shall know. Save for Eleanor and a suspecting Liam.

The Sivall fandom showed evidence, thanks to Zayn’s cliché lines in the Best Friend Tag video, of him describing Niall’s crush.

The Ziall fandom illustrated with GIFs and videos on Youtube solely made from Eleanor’s video, of intimate moments shared between them.

And on and on and on the arguments went, and still do, to this day.

“I’ve got to ask,” said Smallzy, “who came up with the Best Friend Tag video? Eleanor?”

“Eleanor came up with the questions,” replied Niall. “But it was me who came up with the idea. I had been watching Best Friend tags on Youtube, sort of a marathon, and I thought, ‘Why not?’ Zayn and I are best friends and I’d like the world to know that.”

“Does it sometimes bother the both of you, what with your history?” asked Smallzy. Niall should have seen this coming, of course, they would ask about March 2015. When will they stop was what Niall was wondering.

Niall run his fingers through his hair and brought his lips closer to the microphone. “It’s amazing how we got passed all of it. Well, not completely. There are times when the events of last year do come up but we rarely focus on that.”

Smallzy nodded, as if understanding. “It’s more of a clean break with both of you?”

“Yeah,” he answered and Niall was awed because that was what it was. Him and Zayn were starting over, they were learning to be friends again but it felt like a new friendship to both of them. “That’s exactly it.”

“Who do you ship more: Sivall or Ziall?” he asked, cheekily.

Niall stammered on live radio where thousands of fans were tuned in. “I—I ship—I—Um—You can’t ask me that Kent.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not fair.”

“And you can’t say both.”

“Oh, that’s not fair.”

“Alright, fine. We’ll compromise. You can choose one song from each of their albums to play next.”

“I pick _TOO GOOD_ by Troye and _wRoNg_ — is that appropriate for radio play?”

“It’ll be edited out.”

That was not fair, Niall thought. Zayn’s songs should not be edited out, erased to make it suited for themselves, that was one of the reasons for March 2015 as people were trying to correct him so much there was nothing of himself left.

“Okay then. I pick _BoRdErZ_.”

“Coming up is _TOO GOOD_ by the handsome Troye Sivan,” – Niall rolled his eyes as the twitch on his lips failed and he ended up grinning, “followed by _BoRdErZ_ by Zayn. Stay tuned.”

The songs played then, and several more played, some Niall had never heard of, others he did courtesy of Hadiyya and the music videos she often sent him to watch on WhatsApp.

“Welcome back! I am joined by none other than the amazing Irish, Niall Horan, who has recently released his massive single, _Human_ , and we shall be listening to that in a little while. But before. Niall, let me just say I watched the Best Friend Tag video, probably more times than is appropriate,” he chuckled and Niall laughed loudly. “Zayn seemed like a humble, quiet lad in the video. Is he like that in real life?”

“He gets a little shy in front of the camera, always has, but he is humble, very, and he’s the greatest person I could ever have as a best friend.”

“Are you this close with the rest of your former band mates?”

Niall shook his head. “It’s just him.”

“Do you still keep in touch with your former band mates?”

“I do. I try to attend Liam’s matches as often as I can and we occasionally meet up and whatnot. With Harry it’s a little difficult to meet as he is busy filming for—the new movie that shall be released early next year.”

“Do you know what the others are up to?” he asked Niall and continued talking as Niall opened his mouth to answer. “Liam, I’ve seen, left the singing world and joined football. Chelsea it seems?”

“Yeah, it was crazy.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because Liverpool’s a better Club.”

Smallzy laughed, “Bit of football rivalry, I see.”

“Nah, I told Liam all that but I was really happy for him. Being part of something as big as Chelsea is no joke so Conte and the owner must’ve been something him and hired him.”

“What about the others? What projects are they undertaking?”

“Harry is currently into the movie industry. He finished filming for Dunkirk a while back, and he is already on another, as I’ve earlier mentioned, and I think he’ll be in the movie scene for a while.”

Niall kept quiet and the silence ensued. He knew Smallzy was waiting for him to mention Louis, to say anything about Louis, the listeners noticing the silence stretching, but Niall kept his mouth shut and Smallzy cleared his throat and announced that they will be on a break.

The rest of the interview went smoothly, no awkward silences, no weirdness followed. They even played a game on the show, answered a few fan questions (almost 90% of them about the Best Friend Tag video) and ended it on a good note.

“Before we leave, you have been nominated for four People Choice awards. You’ve been nominated for Favourite Breakout Artist, Favourite Social Media Star, Favourite Song and Favourite Pop Artist. That’s huge!”

“Thank you, Kent.”

“I hope you win all four.”

“I don’t think I’ll be winning Favourite Social Media Star because Cameron Dallas is a better social media star than me. I’m only active on Snapchat and Twitter.”

“What about the others? Do you feel positive you’ll win?

“I hope. Wish me luck?”

“You don’t need luck,” chuckled Smallzy, “you’re Irish.”

What Niall did not know, or realized too late after he embarrassingly asked on Twitter, was that for the People’s Choice Awards, there was no online voting. It was like the other high-rated awards where one does not vote, they only know they have won at the event. How the process between being nominated and winning (or losing) is unknown to him, er them.

Relaxing in his Hilton hotel in Sydney after the interview with Smallzy, Niall’s phone buzzed and he stretched his head to see where he left his phone. It buzzed again and he spotted it: on the table at the far behind him.

He placed his Guinness on top of the coffee table, muted _Australian’s Next Top Model_ he had been watching (and was not ashamed of it) and went to fetch his phone. He came back, unmuted the TV and slumped back onto the silver couch. The first text was from Eleanor telling him not to wait up as she and Kent were going out clubbing. He replied with a be safe and he most certainly would be ‘waiting up’ for her.

The other was from Harry.  


 

 **HARRY:** Nice video, Niall. CONGRATS!  


It seemed strange. Harry’s congratulatory messages had a million emojis and several lines of him saying congratulations in different languages. Seeing a bland “CONGRATS!” he knew Harry did not mean it.  


**NIALL:** Thanks?

 **HARRY:** It was… interesting. Didn’t think you two were “best friends” level yet.

 **NIALL:** We are……..  


Niall sipped his Guinness. Of course Harry would beat around the bush a while…  


**HARRY:** That’s cool too. He seemed to answer all questions about you right.

 **NIALL:** What is UR point H……

 **HARRY:** I didn’t know some of the questions to the questions you picked from the box.

 **NIALL:** So ?

 **HARRY:** I thought WE were best friends.

 **NIALL:** We R. I said so.

 **HARRY:** “Seasonal best friends” you mean?  


He sighed. _Australia’s Next Top Model_ was in the judging stage and he wanted to see if his favourite would make it…  


**NIALL:** How many times have U watched the video ??

 **HARRY:** Once.

 **NIALL:** HARRY !!

 **HARRY:** 10 times.

 **NIALL:** Why tf would U ?

 **HARRY:** Hear me out! I was shocked to see the link to the video, FIRST OF ALL, because what the hell? Since when are Eleanor and Zayn friends??!

 **NIALL:** Since always !

 **HARRY:** Then I watched the first three times in shock, nothing sinking in really because I WAS SHOCKED!!

 **HARRY:** I CANNOT SAY THIS ENOUGH!!!

 **NIALL:** U’VE said this too much.

 **HARRY:** Then the fourth, fifth time I watched it, actually listening to what you both were saying.

 **HARRY:** Then Briana caught me watching it so we watched it again.

 **NIALL:** U & Briana? Doesn’t Louis NOT like her?

 **HARRY:** Absolute loathes her but she’s not actually bad.

 **HARRY:** ANYWAY, so we watched it and she kept gushing over how hot Zayn was the entire time (clearly I wasn’t the only one) so I basically didn’t hear anything.

 **NIALL:** What do U mean “only one” ?

 **HARRY:** You were looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. Or eyes, in this case.

 **NIALL:** Did not !!

 **HARRY:** Did too!

 **NIALL:** NOT !!

 **HARRY:** THEN I sent a link to Gemma then we watched it together on FaceTime and she basically called Mom up to watch it so we watched it together. Again.

 **NIALL:** Oh gosh !

 **HARRY:** I wanted to send Liam the link but he looked like he already WATCHED it seeing his tweets on basically him commenting on every second of the bloody video.

 **HARRY:** Not forgetting him tweeting Eleanor and Zayn fans.

 **NIALL:** Does this story have an end?

 **HARRY:** I am a raconteur, Niall. A storyteller.  


Niall rolled his eyes. It was one compliment that Louis told him that one time and he, for months on end, told everyone he was a raconteur as if Louis’ words made it official or something. But deep down he did not blame him, Harry kept Louis’ compliments tucked safely in a blue heart-shaped box in his heart.  


**NIALL:** When Louis said that he meant it sarcastically.

 **HARRY:** Did not.

 **NIALL:** Did too !

 **HARRY:** Did not.

 **NIALL:** Did too !!

 **HARRY:** THEN Lou caught me watching the video and he wanted to watch it so we watched it together and, well, he got pissed.

 **NIALL:** Pissed ? Like angry or drunk ?

 **HARRY:** Angry.

 **NIALL:** When is he never ??

 **HARRY:** OI! That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.

 **NIALL:** Ooh, protective Harry.

 **HARRY:** You know how Louis denies his feelings ? Like always ?

 **NIALL:** Yeah……

 **HARRY:** He was pissed that you forgot about us.

 **NIALL:** Us ?

 **HARRY:** Yeah. You were all Zayn, Zayn, Zayn, in the video.

 **NIALL:** It was about ME & Zayn… so…

 **HARRY:** And then he got angrier when you didn’t mention him in your Smallzy interview today.

 **NIALL:** You listened in?

 **HARRY:** Course.

 **NIALL:** Your boyfriend & I are not talking.

 **HARRY:** You know he’s a Dad now, you could’ve said this, anything at all, really.

 **NIALL:** I don’t know that. He didn’t tell me, only what I HEAR from people.

 **HARRY:** Don’t shut him out, Niall. He has a hard time showing it but Lou misses you. A LOT.

 **NIALL:** Funny way of showing it.

 **HARRY:** Please, Niall.

 **NIALL:** I meant it when I said I was done with him Harry & I’m not changing my mind. Zayn’s in my life & he’ll have to deal with that.

 **HARRY:** We all say angry things.  


Niall shut his eyes and counted down from five. The credits for Australia’s Next Top Model were rolling meaning he missed seeing if his favourite was out of the competition or not.  


**NIALL:** IF U THINK THAT WAS ME BEING ANGRY, U DON’T KNOW ME AS AN ANGRY PERSON.

 **NIALL:** AND IF U HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT THEN FUCK RIGHT OFF HARRY!

 **HARRY:** I’m sorry, Niall.

 **NIALL:** STOP DEFENDING THAT FUCKTARD WHEN ALL HE DOES IS ACT LIKE A CHILD. IF HE HAS ISSUES TO DEAL WITH THEN LET HIM SAY IT TO MY FACE NOT DO IT THROUGH U.

 **HARRY:** Alright.

 **NIALL:** I’M FRIENDS WITH U HARRY NOT WITH HIM.

 **HARRY:** I know, Niall, but…

 **HARRY:** Maybe we should put a pause on our friendship?

 **NIALL:** I think that’s best.  


It took a while before Harry replied.  


**HARRY:** See you around, Niall.

 **NIALL:** K

As soon as he sent the message, he locked his phone and smashed it against the hotel wall in a blinding rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i enjoyed doing the BF tag which was coool and i may have OVERDONE it because i had soooooo many Qs for Ziall to ask each other ha! i think i was too invested in my fake ziall friendship *sighs loudly*
> 
> leave your thoughts on the BF tag or anything else (sivall?), i would love to read them ☺
> 
> tutu!!


	17. Livin La Vida Loca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the People's Choice tonight... and, later, Zayn & Niall paint the town red.. sort of..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorta long chapter, was actually longer, so i split it into two chapters ☺ enjOY

****

> **I held my heart back from positively accepting anything, since I was afraid of another fall, and in this condition of suspense I was being all the more killed  
>        ~ Augustine of Hippo**

 

It was D-Day.

The People’s Choice Awards were being held this evening in Miami, Florida. Everyone was dressed to the nines for the red carpet, ladies donned in glamorous dresses, outfits that boggled Niall’s brain just looking at them. _Fashion_ , Eleanor whispered in his ear. It was stupid is what Niall told her. For tonight, Eleanor was not working as she was Niall’s plus one for People’s Choice.

Together, they graced the red carpet, smiling at the millions of flash photography that he did not think he will ever get used to. He ought to start wearing shades on red carpet, he thought as he stood still, smiling at the cameras and noting the tight grip on his bicep from Eleanor holding tightly. He kissed her cheek and he heard the cameras go on a frenzy with lots of click, click, click. They were being rushed off, the next celebrity coming on the red carpet.

He dragged Eleanor towards the snacks but she stopped him. “We need to network, Niall. A thousands celebrities are here, and not just them, but people who could change your career, people who can take you to the next level.”

“But I have Steve and you, why need anyone else?”

“Do you know what Beyoncé, Rihanna, Harry, the likes, had to do in order to become who they are?” Niall chewed on his crackers indicating for her to proceed to answer her own question. “A lot. And pretty sure, when they were honoured with an invite to something as big as this, or Billboards, or AMAs, MTV, whatever it was, they did not eat the entire snack table but mingled, networked, talked to the who’s-who in the industry.”

“But I don’t know anyone here,” he whined.

“Forget the owners of this industry,” she said as she turned them both towards the rest of the, well, attendees of People’s Choice. It was a mix of photographers, the industry giants, singers, bloggers, actors, models, name droppers… and faceless people he had no idea who they were. “How about just famous people you know? Like I spot Shawn Mendes…”

“Shawn who?”

“Mendes. Go. Mingle, mingle.” She pushed him into the crowed with a half-eaten cracker. She swallowed it in one go as his eyes scanned the… room? It felt like a hall, but bigger. He did not spot Shawn Mendes and he turned around to tell Eleanor this but she had disappeared. Great. He was on his own, yet again.

He was getting horrible flashbacks of the Grammy’s when he felt out of place, not wanting the applause but at the same time craving it. He wanted to attend the events, to always be invited to these events where people paid attention to each other but not the reason for the event yet he did want to be invited, nevertheless.

Yes, Niall was a walking contrast.

“Yo! Niall!”

He spun on the spot and it was Macklemore. “Hey!” he greeted, cheerfully. “What’s up Macklemore?”

“Call me Mack, please,” he smiled, patting him on the back. “Enjoying yourself I see.” He was pointing to the crumbs on his shirt.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he wiped down his shirt. “Not a way to make an impression.”

“S’alright. What are you here for?”

“I was nominated. You?”

“I’m presenting the Favourite Song category.”

“I’ve been nominated for that,” Niall exclaimed happily.

“Hope I present it to you,” Macklemore said, hopeful. His smile fell off his face when Niall’s face did not mimic his own. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to win _This Town_ as Favourite Song?”

“I do, don’t get me wrong,” he found himself saying. “It’s just that. I hope my friend wins instead of me.”

“Justin Bieber?”

Niall shook his head. “Zayn Malik.”

“For _PILLOW TALK,_ right?”

“I’ve been nominated for four categories and him three, and two of those are in the same one as me, Favourite Song and Favourite Breakout Artist, and I just wish he would win instead.”

“Sorry to hear that, Niall, but the industry is a cut-throat business, you know that.”

“I know. You described perfectly it in your song _Light Tunnels_. Every time I attend these events I truly understand the meaning of the song.”

“I’m honoured,” smiled Macklemore. “Now, I’ve got to go, prepare my Speech and all that, but don’t be a stranger. You’re a cool kid, would love to talk to you.”

They exchanged numbers and Macklemore left Niall staring at his number on his phone. What even! He had _the_ Macklemore’s number on his phone and he asked him to call him, talk to him, whatever.

He scrolled down to ‘N’ in his Phonebook and pressed on NIAZ.

 **NIALL:** I JUST GOT MACKLEMORE’S NUMBER!!! MACKLEMORE!!!!

 **NIALL:** THIS IS SO SIIIIICK!!!

 **NIALL:** Where are you? Are you still sleeping?!

 **NIALL:** That wouldn’t be a surprise.

His phone buzzed not seconds later with a message, not from Zayn, but Eleanor.

 **EL:** MINGLE!! MINGLE!!

 **NIALL:** I am MOM!

 **EL:** Just looking out for you.

 **NIALL:** What are you doing?

 **EL:** Drake’s here. Again! And he remembered who I was.

Niall rolled his eyes. At the Grammy’s, Eleanor had bumped (he was starting to suspect that she stalked Drake) into Drake and they started talking. Just like that. Instant connection, she called it with dreamy eyes. He called it—

His phone buzzed.

 **ELEANOR:** I hope you’re not EATING again!

Niall rolled his eyes as he munched on a cheese cracker.

 **NIALL:** I got Macklemore’s number.

He added a screenshot of his number. She, in a span of 30 seconds, sent seven screenshots of what he thought were important people, if Rihanna, Ariana Grande, Avicii, Chance The Rapper, and the rest he did not recognize, was anything to go by.

 **NIALL:** How did you get Chance The Rapper’s number?

 **ELEANOR:** MINGLE!! MINGLE!!

Niall grunted and pocketed his phone.

He mingled around, people’s conversation boring him to death. He had talked to so many people their faces began blending in with each other he could not tell one female from another, one male from another. So when he spotted Andy González he was honestly happy to see someone familiar.

“Andy!”

“Niall!” He bent over to hug him. “It’s been so long, has it not, _mi amigo_?”

Niall nodded. “Since the Grammy’s, I’m sure.”

“This is nothing like the Grammy’s, _si_?”

“Nope,” he laughed, shaking his head. “It’s hotter here.”

“That’s Miami for you,” laughed Andy in his ear. “Have you been nominated for anything?”

“Four categories. You?”

“One. Favourite Latin Song,” he said and shook his head. “Honestly, they group people from Mexico, Spain and South America under one name: Latin.”

“Is that bad?” he asked, sounding unsure.

“Yes. We’re all different people, with different cultures.”

“I—I wasn’t aware,” he said, honestly.

“It’s like this: Imagine you, an English man,” – Niall shuts his mouth promptly not bothering to correct Andy on him not being English – “making a song and then Grammy’s categorizes your song, along with an American song, Australian song, South African song, Indian song, and all other English speaking countries under the category Favourite English Song.”

“I see,” he pondered on it. “I see what you mean. It would suck because you can’t compare an Australian song and a South African song. They’re completely different.”

Andy patted his shoulder. “Just like an Argentinian song and a Mexican song are different.”

“Well, if you do win your category, you can put that in your standing ovation,” proposed Niall and Andy slapped his back enthusiastically that Niall huffed out a breath.

“That’s brilliant, _amigo_! Why didn’t I think of that?”

Andy clung to him, or was it the other way round, Niall thought, as they swam through the large hall, greeting so-and-so, such-and-such, nameless people he did not know, others he only knew them from listening to their songs on the radio, finally matching voice to a face.

“Are you waiting for a text, _amigo_?” inquired Andy after they finished speaking to Meghan Trainor. “You keep staring at your phone.”

“Sorry, it’s just. My friend and I were meant to be sat together at this event and he hasn’t replied to my texts.”

“Is it that lovely _chica_ you came with?” Andy asked, wriggling his eyebrows.

“Eleanor?” he asked but continued speaking as Andy most probably would not know Eleanor’s name. “No. His name is Zayn.”

“Ah! Well, try calling him.”

“S’not picking up.”

“Did he come with anyone?”

“His girlfriend,” he grumbled out. He had to repeat as the hall was quite noisy and one who mumbled under their breath could not be heard. “His girlfriend, Gigi.”

“Call her, _amigo_.”

Oh how Niall did not want to call her, let alone speak to her or hear her annoying American voice. But he was doing it for Zayn, he told himself but… he ended up asking Eleanor to call Gigi and ask where Zayn is and before Eleanor said, _do it yourself_ , _Nini_ , he reminded her that she was his PA therefore…

“Honestly, Nini,” she huffed over the phone before he hang up. He picked another cheese cracker, munching on it heartedly, he noticed Andy having this intense look on his face. He looked to where he was looking and through process of elimination (and slight racism) he deduced he was looking at Jennifer Lopez.

“Go talk to her,” he said as he waited for Eleanor to call Gigi and tell him the news.

“No, _amigo_ , she’s,” he let the phrase peter out, still looking her direction. Niall took a bold step forward, or really, just a couple of steps as Jennifer López did not shake him up as it did most people. And Andy, it seemed. Andy whispered and scolded him under his breath to _turn around, amigo_ but Niall kept walking until he came face-to-face with Jennifer Lopez.

“¡Hola Jennifer López!” Niall greeted, enthusiastically. Andy facepalmed behind him and Jennifer Lopez giggled. “¿Cómo estás?”

“Stop talking, _amigo_ ,” Andy whispered.

“Hi!” Jennifer Lopez greeted, holding out her manicured hand. “You can call me J. Lo.”

And it went South from there, as Niall tried to remember his basic Spanish from his high school days and Andy tongue-tied (even in Spanish) but afterwards, they both came out with Jennifer Lopez’s number and Niall considered it a win, even if he embarrassed himself silly. No matter, Eleanor had gotten back to him.

_Gigi said he went out for a smoke_

Niall frowned, phone pressed to his ear trying to hear her over the noise. “Smoke? Smoke where?”

_She was very vague about it._

Niall groaned on the phone. “There are literally a thousand places to smoke in this—hold on.” He covered the mouth piece to his Samsung. “Yeah?”

“There’s one place I know for smoking. I think I know where your _amigo_ is.”

“Really?” he asked and Andy nodded. He removed his hand from the mouth piece. “It’s okay. Andy knows where Zayn might be.”

_Who’s Andy?_

“Bye El.”

_Are you already making friends?_

“You sound like my Mom, y’know that?”

_Bye my adorable Irish son._

“Bye El,” he chuckled as he hung up the phone.  Andy led the way to where the Smoking Zone was at this venue and it was a quite a walk. They came to a large, grey door with a long handle that Andy pressed down to open it. Except it did not open.

“It’s stuck.”

“Stuck?” questioned Niall as he tried for himself. He pressed down on the handle to open the door but it would not budge. “How is it closed? It should always be open.”

“Stay here, _amigo_ , as I go call someone.”

Off Andy ran down the corridor they had come along with leaving Niall to try the door several times. He banged on it, hoping for something, anything, someone to bang back, someone to shout, ‘Hello?’ just anything but nothing happened.

He pocketed his phone and opened his text message to Zayn.

 **NIALL:** Where are U?

 **NIALL:** We’re looking for U everywhere but can’t find U…..

 **NIALL:** Zayn?

 **NIALL:** Zaynie Pie?

 **NIALL:** Zayno the Mayo?

 **NIALL:** Zayn the Mayne?

 **NIALL:** Niaz the Kilamz

 **NIALL:** OK that one sucked, probably, but it sounded funny in my head.

 **NIALL:** Please call!!

Andy was back in a jiffy with an official of the People’s Choice. He brought out several keys, trying the lock of the door, until the sixth one worked. He apologized for the inconvenience and rushed off how he came.

“Silent one, he is,” murmured Niall, opening the door.

“Go look for your friend, _amigo_ , as I hold the door open, just in case,” suggested Andy and Niall murmured his gratitude. He walked off, turning to look back to see Andy standing by the door, and confidently continued walking in search of Zayn.

He followed the trail of smoke under the red/orange skies that were darkening quicker than he thought and Niall was getting anxious. Did Zayn bail? Did he decide to go home? Or, he chuckled, he probably was not even here!

“Niall?”

Niall jumped on the spot at someone calling his name. It was Zayn and Niall heaved a sigh of relief as he threw himself at him. “Oh Zaynie Pie! You have no idea how happy I am to see you?” He then smacked his chest. “Where the hell have you been?”

Zayn had a small smile on his lips. “Were you worried about me, Niall?”

Niall blushed. “Maybe. Where’ve you been?”

“I told Gigi I was going for a quick smoke, and left my phone with her because I wasn’t going to be long, right? So after my smoke the door was locked. I banged on it, no answer. I tried going round to the red carpet but this place is really huge, it’s like a fucking maze, I felt like I was walking in circles.”

Niall then took him in, really did. His aqua colored hair looked dishevelled like several hands had been running through it for ages, his attire was casual, just like Niall, but. They were in Florida so there was no use in wearing _suits_ when you would be sweating through it even before you walked down the red carpet. And as always, Zayn’s signature black boots.

“It was locked,” Niall confirmed. “Andy and I tried it then he went to look for an official to come and open it.”

“Who’s Andy?”

“Andy González.”

“Dunno who that is,” said Zayn following Niall back to the grey Smoking Zone door. “What time did you come?”

“On time,” he explained and Zayn chuckled. “I was with Eleanor so there was no way I was going to be late.”

They reached the door where Andy was still standing and then locked the door after them.

“Andy, Zayn. Zayn, Andy,” he introduced them.

“Nice to meet you, Zayn,” Andy shook his hand. “Hope you weren’t freezing outside.”

“Nah, it’s quite warm.”

“My _amigo_ here was worried about you,” said Andy and Zayn quirked an amused eyebrow at Niall. Niall pictured himself strangling Andy with his bare hands but Andy was oblivious to all this, as he asked, “Where were you? What happened to your phone?”

“Left it with my girlfriend as I went for a smoke. Didn’t think I’d be locked out for ages, mate.”

“ _Amigo_ , they announced that we should begin being seated, let’s go?” Andy said and Niall nodded. Andy and Niall fell into an easy flowing conversation, mainly him telling Niall all about Colombia, where he is from, and he should visit some time.

“That’s so cool. The land of Pablo Escobar.”

“That’s all we are famous for, _si?_ ” chuckled Andy. They stopped at where an official with a clipboard was stood. “This is the Latino assigned official. She’ll be showing me where to sit. For you two it is down the corridor.”

“Thanks Andy.”

“Of course, _amigo_ ,” he said. “Let’s meet after?”

“Sure. You have my number still?”

“Of course, _amigo_!”

Zayn and Niall continued making their way down the corridor to where they would be shown their seats.

“Have you noticed how he says amigo a lot?” commented Zayn.

“Right?” laughed Niall. “I like it, in a weird way. Plus turns out he is a pretty cool guy and I should’ve chatted him up at the Grammy’s.”

“You met him at the Grammy’s?” he asked, sounding surprised.

Niall gazed to Zayn before replying, “Feels like ages ago. Andy weirdly makes me want to listen to Enrique Iglesias.”

Zayn laughed, actually laughed with crinkles by eyes and corner of his lips, something that Niall did not often see. Zayn did not wholeheartedly laugh as often as he should.

“It’s true,” he continued when Zayn was laughing (most likely) at him. “He was so Spanish-y, or Latino-y, and I was here wondering what Spanish singing artist do I know and I thought of Enrique Iglesias.”

“There’s Jennifer Lopez.”

“Oh yeah! Her. Think she’s J.Lo now.”

“What happened her to her? She’s was fucking hot.”

“True,” he agreed. “You know she’s here?” Zayn’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shape. “She’s like 40 and she looks like she’s in her early twenties.”

“Right,” Zayn agreed, dreamily.

Niall rolled his eyes. He did not pin Zayn as a J.Lo fan. “Don’t forget Pitbull.”

“Pitbull?... He doesn’t have an amazing body.”

“No, you wanker,” laughed Niall. “He’s a Spanish singer. He should’ve been the first person I thought of. I’ll ask Andy if he likes Pitbull.”

“Do _you_ even know a Pitbull song?” challenged Zayn.

“ _Timber_ ,” he answered confidently.

“Oh c’mon, that doesn’t count. That’s the most obvious song. Another song.”

“ _We Are One_.”

“What song is that?”

“He sang it with J.Lo for the 2014 World Cup theme song. If you ask me, it was horrible. The Opening Ceremony, the song, the winner,” he dramatically trembles. “The 2014 World Cup was horrible.”

“Was that the one where Brazil lost seven one to Germany?”

Niall gasped, horrified and without thinking, clamped his hand over Zayn’s lips. He tried not to think of Zayn’s warm, pink lips pressed to his palm, how they felt soft on his palm, so warm, so—he blinked. He was staring and, well, how could he not when Zayn’s whiskey-colored eyes were gazing back at him?

“Uh,” he gawked, “er.” What were they talking about? What did Zayn ask? “Yeah I think Pitbull is an amazi—” They were talking about the World Cup, you idiot! “Yes, that was the one,” he finally correctly answered. He, with regret, removed his hand over Zayn’s mouth. “And we never talk about that. Ever.”

“’Twas just a game.”

“Zayn,” he said, warning in his tone.

“Alright, alright. What other Pitbull songs do you know?”

Niall paused their conversation because they had arrived at their allocated door to where they would be heading to their seats. “Niall Horan and Zayn Malik.”

The Official donned in all red and a clipboard, looked down the clipboard and they nodded, and they passed through the door. The arena was humongous! It had endless rows of seats to Niall’s left, to his right, and all the way down to the podium which was filled with, what he assumed, fans. Some seats were already occupied, others streaming in, finding their friends, significant others, whoever, and chatting endlessly and loudly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be bored of coming to these events,” said Zayn gaily standing beside him. Niall looked to his left and Zayn had the cheesiest smile on his face, like a seven year old told he will be going to Disney World.

Niall made a noncommittal sound as he headed down the steps to where Eleanor was seated.

“You don’t think so?”

“I’m 50-50,” he replied truthfully.

“We’ve got a problem.” Eleanor was standing on the end of their row when Niall got to where she was. “Zayn’s been moved from our row to the seventh row.”

“What? Why?” He looked to his seat and indeed, Zayn’s photo was not there but rather his, Eleanor’s and one of Meghan Trainor.

“Since when?” questioned Zayn.

“Since a few minutes ago. Apparently,” she leaned in, “we’re seated with Meghan Trainor and not Zayn.”

“That’s not fucking fair,” screamed Niall and Zayn instantly hushed him. “We’re meant to sit together and they cannot just change last minute.”

“This is how the industry works, Niall; people at the top change things and we roll with it.”

“She’s right,” said Zayn, “and it’s not bad. We’ll meet after.”

Niall grabbed his wrist to hold him down before he left to walk up to the seventh row. “No! Don’t accept this bullshit.”

“Niall,” Zayn said sounding like he was pleading. “Please, let’s just sit where we’re meant to be sitting.”

“We’re meant to be seated together. Who can we talk to?” he asked Eleanor.

Eleanor looked taken aback. “You can’t just talk to _anyone_. And no offense you’re just a B-list celebrity. Not much credibility and power.”

“Who can we talk to?” he insisted, his hand still on Zayn’s wrist.

“Niall. Stop. It’s fine, I’ll sit over there wi—”

“With me,” Niall finished his sentence. “If you go and sit in the seventh row, we do too.”

“You can’t!”

“I agree. You sit where you’re assigned.”

“Hey!” Niall ignored both of them and flagged down an Official who was walking down the steps. “Hey, you, um, Jeffrey?” The Official nodded, not looking pleased at all. “We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“Yes?”

“See, Jeffrey, I’m Niall and I was assigned to sit on the second row with my two best friends Eleanor and Zayn but right now, one of my best friends, Zayn,” he gestures to an embarrassed Zayn standing by his side and Jeffrey spared him a jaded glance, “has been suddenly moved to the seventh row. Why?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jeffrey and speedily walked off.

“What the fuck?”

“What’s his fucking problem?” cried Niall.

Eleanor flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “That was fucking rude!”

Zayn, who had remained quiet during the ordeal, dropped to the ground in a huff and sat on the stairs. Niall raised an eyebrow at him to which Zayn challenged him with a stare. Niall pursed his lips and turned to Eleanor.

“Who can we talk to? Or fuck it, let’s just sit and screw Meghan Trainor.”

Eleanor gawked at him, blinking rapidly. “Please tell me you snorted coke before getting here because that is the only explanation for this.”

“Am actually serious. Or better yet, let’s talk to—Oi! I know him. He’s an important event person.”

She looked at where Niall was visibly pointing at. “Who?”

“The guy with—the one talking to Drake.”

“Oh, him. He’s Bob.” Eleanor turned back to Niall. “He’s the People’s Choice Event Manager.”

“He’s coming. We’ll talk to him.”

“How do you know him?”

“We’re all wondering,” said Zayn from where he was seated on the steps.

Indeed Bob was walking to where they were, heading straight for them, then stopped. Jeffrey, _that fucker_ , Niall cursed, stopped him, turned him around and was heading the same direction he came from.

“That was our only shot.”

“No!” Niall refused to believe so. “Up. Stand up,” he said, manhandling Zayn off the floor. “Both of you have always said I need to do what I want because it’s my life, well this is me taking your advice.”

“Is today that day?” Zayn wondered. Niall pushed him onto the second row and forward to where there was his photo and Eleanor’s… and Meghan Trainor.

“You know that her photo is still here…” Zayn told Niall, because, really, it had to be said as Niall was acting like the photo of Meghan Trainor was not taped to the red cushion seat.

“Think ahead, Malik,” said Niall. Niall did what none of them saw coming; he took off Meghan Trainor’s photo, walked off the second row, and headed for the seventh row where Zayn’s photo was stuck to a red seat.

Zayn and Eleanor could do nothing but stare, watching the back of Niall walk to the end of their row and up the stairs.

“He’s not serious,” said Zayn, coming out as a whisper.

“He’s passing the fourth row.”

“He’s not serious,” he repeated.

“He’s on the sixth row.” Eleanor jabbed her finger multiple times along Zayn’s ribs. “Do something. He’ll literally take your photo and bring it here. He’ll be thrown out of these events for life, and it’ll be a huge catastrophe, and he’ll be in—”

“Alright, alright,” said Zayn, wanting Eleanor to stop and also because _whatthebloodyfuck_ was Niall serious?

“Niall, stop,” he said when he met Niall coming down the steps with his photo in hand. He took the chance and grabbed the paper off his hand to which Niall chased with grabby fingers but Zayn was faster. “This is ridiculous, Niall. Look at what you’re doing. You’re basically sabota—”

“We’re meant to be sitting together, it was literally that way this whole time, and suddenly  we’re not. Isn’t that strange, Zayn?” he questioned him, frustrated that he was the only one trying to make the three of them sit together.

“Yeah, I’ll admit it but. These things happen, Niall. I’m sure you understand.” It was the way he sounded closed off, resigned, that Niall’s anger sparked inside of him.

“And why the fuck are you so accepting of it?”

“Because I don’t get invited to these things?” It seemed that Zayn, too, had had hit his limit. “Ever since One Direction I’ve not been invited to many places, not been nominated for my work. Sure, I act like it doesn’t matter but it does. It hurts when some nobody comes in and wins effortlessly, when I’ve literally worked day and night on my craft, perfected it, and then what? Nothing.

“For some reason this industry holds a grudge for my quitting the band last year and I guess it’s still happening.” He shook his head as he looked down at his black boots. “I don’t know. I just.” He sighed, inhaling deeply. “So when I get nominated, it’s a privilege to me, Niall. You don’t get that. So… I don’t want to mess up my chances by you moving my seat and causing trouble.”

“I… I didn’t know,” he mumbled gazing at him.

“Yeah… well….”

“I’m sorry you—I’m sorry the world still hates you,” he told him, his voice wavering. Zayn’s gaze flickered from Niall’s polka dotted button up to his oceanic eyes. “I just wish they’d understand.”

Zayn shrugged in response.

“But all that tomorrow,” said Niall, his fire coming back. “This isn’t who you are Zayn, complacent and all, you’re brave and your own person, damned be the world. Tomorrow be _this_ Zayn but today you’ll be the Zayn you truly are.”

“The real Zayn is not someone who changes assigned seats.”

“No, that’s true,” smirked Niall knowingly and he took step down to be closer to him. His eyes flicked down to where Zayn was clutching his paper, tighter when Niall had moved closer. “But I’m Niall Horan, someone who changes assigned seats cause it’s his life and fuck whoever does.”

“You don’t rule these Events.”

“I just want to sit with my best friends, is that so hard?”

Zayn had no reply for that, instead staring at him with a developing frown on his face. Niall, being, well, Niall, was generally a random person as those close to him have come to know. But this probably took the cake.

He leaned close to Zayn, so close to his face that Zayn went crossed eyed until he could not when Niall’s cheeks brushed his and his lips were on his ear. Zayn’s eyes widened as his mouth dropped. It dropped further when the tip of Niall’s tongue flicked his earlobe.

When Zayn made no attempt to move, Niall took his chances and held Zayn’s head in place with his hand on the back of his neck and tugged his earlobe between his teeth. Zayn’s eyes fluttered shut as Niall sucked on his earlobe, the metal clinking with Niall’s teeth, and _holy fuck_ , why did it feel so good?

Niall worked his tongue on Zayn’s ear, licking the outer ring of his ear, then back to sucking on his earlobe, making sure Zayn was distracted enough that Zayn’s hand loosened around the paper with his photo on it and he easily took it. Zayn pressed his body to Niall’s chest as Niall chewed on his earlobe then sucked on it to soothe it.

Eleanor’s jaw was literally on the floor from where she was seated staring unbelieving at Niall eating Zayn’s ear off. She could do nothing but stare at them both, at Niall’s tongue on Zayn’s ear as his hand was taking the photograph off Zayn’s hand, which he took easily according to Eleanor’s opinion. She quickly looked around her but it was as if no one was paying attention to them, each one busy in their own bubble and chatter, so she turned back to the mind-blowing action on sixth row.

And he was off him.

“Second row right?” Niall asked, sweetly and innocently. Zayn looked like a deer caught in the lights. He did not move, save from his chest moving up and down beneath his white-dotted button-up, his eyes searching Niall’s blue orbs.

Zayn, belatedly, looked down at his hand where he should have been holding the paper with his photo on it.

“Looking for something?” Niall teased. Zayn could still not speak. “So we’re sitting together, that’s the new plan, just in case it wasn’t obvious.”

Promptly, Zayn brought his hand to his ear, as if in a trance, and his hands massaged his earlobe.

“Sorry if I was bite-y.”

Zayn shook his head slowly. “It was fine. Don’t think I’ve ever had ear sex before.”

Niall barked a laughter to which Zayn chuckled and the mood changed. Or so they thought. Eleanor was waiting for them, a mix between shock, surprise and _explain what that was_.

“It’s called being random, look it up, El,” he said dismissively.

Eleanor opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of the sea. Niall deliberately ignored her, he could read the millions of questions on his face, and took out his phone.

“Everyone in for a selfie,” said Niall holding his phone at arm’s length. The two got in as Niall snapped his photo and he grunted at Zayn. “Do you always have to look like a fucking model in every photo?”

Zayn preened and stuck his tongue out in response. In no time, the event began, the issue of Meghan Trainor was now a thing of the past. In short, Meghan Trainor, by the end of the event, would be at war with Niall Horan it was one of the highlights of People’s Choice days after the event was over.

The hosts, Sofia Vergara and Max Greenfield, came on and the show hit the ground running. They talked, made a joke that should have sent Niall laughing but he was too busy living in his head, slapping himself for licking Zayn’s ear clean.

What on earth was he thinking?

Zayn elbowed him just then and he turned to see a large smile on his face. “Did you hear it? The Latina joke?”

“Huh?”

“Have you not been listening to Sofia Vergara?” Niall shrugged at him. “Are you not enjoying yourself Niall?”

“I am, truthful, s’just. I don’t know. Anxious, a little?”

“I get that,” he softly smiles at him. “The wait is almost too much. Though for you it’s certain.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know One D is winning for album, by a long shot?”

Niall smiled in response, his head ducked looking at the photo of himself stuck to the back of Rihanna’s seat. Awards began with the movies such as Favourite Movie Actress, Favourite Dramatic Movie Actor, Favourite Movie, Favourite Action Movie Actress, which, what. Niall so wanted Scarlett Johansson to win but Margot Robbie, whoever that is, snagged the gong. But his disappointment was replaced with utter joy when _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ won Favourite Year End Blockbuster.

“You know what this means?” shouted Eleanor above Niall’s cries of joy. “Harry Potter marathon for a week!”

Zayn laughed in response as Eleanor rolled her eyes but was smiling at Niall’s reaction. Movie categories were over and it was time for performances. First on stage was Ariana Grande, followed up by The Band Perry, The Weeknd (to which Niall sneaked glances Zayn’s way singing alongside him to _Starboy_ ), Justin Timberlake, and the showstopper being Adele.

“She’s perfect,” cried Eleanor when Adele was walking offstage amidst applause and cheers.

“She’s glorious,” Niall marvelled.

It was time for TV categories. Awards for Favourite Network TV Comedy, Favourite Network TV Drama, Favourite Cable TV Drama, and all but when Favourite TV Crime Drama Actress was announced, Niall immediately began searching for Andy through the large crowd. The winner was none other than Jennifer López! He could not find Andy but he sent him an array of congratulatory emojis and pocketed his phone to listen to her Thank You speech.

“YES!” Eleanor squealed and her and Niall hugged each other when _Orange is the New Black_ was announced as the winner of Favourite Premium Drama Series. “It won! It won! This is so exciting.” But their joy was short-lived when immediately after the winner was of Favourite Premium Comedy Series not in fact _Shameless_ but another show that “nobody even fucking watches”, according to Niall.

Zayn was on Niall’s right, laughing at the both of them, taking the winnings and losings quite passionately like a game of football, or baseball.

Then, the moment they were all waiting for: the Music categories. It started with Justin Timberlake winning Favourite Male Artist to which Eleanor was disappointed as she thought Drake would win. Well, if the semi-applause was anything to go by, so did the audience. It went on and on until Tyler Oakley walked on stage stating he was announcing who the winner of Favourite Breakout Artist is.

Niall, on the other hand, as Tyler was mentioning the nominees, rapidly wondered if Troye Sivan was around.

“… and the winner for this year’s People’s Choice Favorite Breakout Artist is—”

Zayn grabbed Niall’s hand catching him by surprise.

“—ZAYN!”

Niall gasped and the grip on his hand tightened. He jumped out of his seat, practically pulling a startled Zayn up with him. Confetti was falling around them as they hugged, cheers and applause drowned by Zayn’s _PILLOW TALK_ playing all around them.

“You did it,” Niall whispered in his ear before Zayn beamed at him and made his way to where Tyler Oakley was standing with the gong. It hit him when Zayn was greeting Tyler that he was also nominated for that category and yet, he had no resentful feelings towards Zayn winning the Award. He was genuinely happy for him.

He pocketed out his phone and took a photo of Zayn making his speech and immediately uploaded it to Twitter:

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _SMASHED IT, HE DID! “Fuckin in, fightin on” !! pictwitter.com/sf83jskfIAW_

They settled back onto their seats and Max Greenfield announced the winner of Favourite Group.

“This category is bringing nostalgic memories.”

“One D slayed each year with this category,” said Eleanor. “Each and every damn year, didn’t matter the event, as long as ‘Group’ was in a category, One Direction would win.”

“I don’t want to sound too big in my head or anything but seeing other people win feels a little weird. Like something’s not right.”

Eleanor sighed dramatically, “It’s the end of an era, is what it is.”

Other categories of Music were announced: Favourite R&B Artist (Rihanna walked towards the podium where her award was being held by Ariana Grande like she knew it was hers already and everyone else was playing for seconds), Favourite Pop Artist (Niall lost as Sia won), Favourite Female Country Artist, Favourite Hip-Hope Artist and, drum roll, Favourite Album.

There was a bit of confusion when this was announced because as of two days ago, One Direction’s last album was added to the category and Sia’s album, This Is Acting, dropped.

Stephen Amell cleared his throat on the microphone. “The nominees for Favourite Album are: Rihanna ANTI, Drake Views, Blake Shelton If I’m Honest, ZAYN Mind of Mine, One Direction Made In The A.M., and Ariana Grande Dangerous Woman.”

Niall felt his heart hammer forcefully against his ribs. How was he, technically One Direction, up against Beyoncé? Beyoncé for crying out loud! And not forgetting Rihanna. And Drake. This was surreal. No way in hell would—

“And the winner for People’s Choice Favourite Album is—”

No way in _hell_ …

“—One Direction’s Made In The A.M.!”

The first thing Niall yelled was, “We beat Beyoncé!” and those who were seated around him laughed at him. He rushed to hug Eleanor tightly, murmuring his disbelief and on his way to the podium gave Rihanna a high-five. Rihanna!

He accepted his award when he was on the podium from Stephen. “This is yours,” he told Niall. Niall got to the microphone, his cheeks red and feeling slightly hot from the nerves and applause and _History_ still playing across the audience.

“I can’t believe we beat Beyoncé,” was the first thing he said and the audience laughed along with him. “Um,” he paused to catch his breath as he held the medium-sized gong in his hand. “What can I say, really? On behalf of Liam and Harry who could not be here tonight,—”

And… wait, what? Did Niall just…? The fans close to the podium had their eyes wide open and their jaws stuck to the floor as their phones recorded everything. The shade, honestly, the shade. Part of the audience, as Niall continued his Speech, caught on, laughed at the shade, others gawked and well, those who were not familiar with One Direction’s history did not think twice at that and continued listening to Niall’s words.

“—we are incredibly happy to still have our dedicated fans that never stop to amaze us. I mean, this is amazing. Thank you so much. We cannot believe we are still winning these and incredible we are picking up these babies. Like we said, us and the fandom are the greatest team that the world has ever seen and I hope that we can live forever.” He held up the gong and shouted, “Massive, massive thank you!”

Niall walked off stage with Stephen and was enveloped in a warm hug. The smell of mint was the first thing to hit his nostrils and he hugged Zayn back. “Congrats!”

“Thanks Zayn,” he smiled and his smile widened when Zayn kissed his jaw. Niall held up his gong and Zayn took time to admire it. “Sick! Look at it.”

“Look at yours,” said Niall pointing to Zayn’s award still in his hand.

“I’m buzzing!” he gleed and Niall could really tell. He was glowing, probably from sweating what with wearing his leather jacket, but glowing nevertheless.

“Excuse me, gentleman, kindly return to your seats,” announced an Official to all of them. “You can place your awards in the shelf to your right and can come back for them later.”

They did and all at once left to return to their seats. Waiting for him was a shrilling Eleanor, knocking the back of his head with her clutch bag, at the shade she threw at Louis.

“Are you defending Louis?” he asked, in mock shock. Eleanor slunk back in her seat and shook her head. “Thought so. Plus he deserved it.”

“What did Louis deserve?” inquired Zayn stretching his neck into their conversation.

“I didn’t mention Louis’ name in my speech,” he explained and Zayn basically stared. “I only said Harry and Liam, implying they were the—”

“I know what shading is, Niall, but why would you do that?”

“Because Louis’ an idiot.”

Zayn was about to protest but Niall shook his head and levelled him with a look. Zayn held his gaze for a moment or two then sat back in his seat. Rihanna was of a different opinion than Eleanor and Zayn and she laughed at what he was implying in his Speech. Niall high-fived (he is not going to wash his right hand for _days_ ) her in response as the winner for Favourite Country Group was announced.

When Niall spotted Macklemore walking up to the podium, he knew the category: Favourite Song. Eleanor stopped her chatter midway with Zayn as she looked on to see Macklemore adjusting the microphone.

“The nominees for Favourite Song are,” he opened the envelope to Niall’s opinion agonizingly slow, “ Justin Timberlake’s _Can’t Stop the Feeling_ , Rihanna’s _Work_ , Niall Horan’s _This Town_ , Drake’s _One Dance_ , Zayn’s _PILLOW TALK_ , and Meghan Trainor’s _No_.”

“Meghan Trainor?” Niall crossed both his fingers. “I hope Zayn or I win. Please, let it be anyone but that bitch.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “You met her today,”

“Bitch,” Niall repeated. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Zayn looking serenely up at Macklemore but looking closer and because Niall could read Zayn, he was nervous as hell. His jaw was tense, his eyes were looking straight ahead and fingers digging into the seat handles. He uncrossed one of his fingers and, pulling Zayn’s fingers from digging into the seat, he laid his hand of top of Zayn’s, fingers in the space between Zayn’s fingers. Zayn looked down at their hands and Niall relaxed upon seeing _him_ relax, not looking as tense as he did before.

“You win,” he mouthed and Niall blinked. And it came to him like a football hit to the head: he missed Macklemore announcing _This Town_ as the winner of the music category. Eleanor was patting him on the back, there were loud applauses of the audience standing all around them, not forgetting his song playing all around but none of it was loud enough. It was all background noise to the squeeze of Zayn’s hand with his and the dazzling smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing. Zayn frowned at him, still everything else as background noise, and he wrapped his arms around Niall. Zayn kissed the space below his jaw and said in his ear, “You beat Meghan Trainor, you fucker!”

Oh!

Niall laughed on Zayn’s shoulder. He did, didn’t he? He beat the bitch who, as of today, was his sworn arch enemy.

“Niall?” Macklemore asked through the microphone.

“Move you idiot!” Eleanor shouted close to his ear and everything stopped becoming background noise. He made his way down the steps to Macklemore who hugged him tight and the audience _Awww_ ’ed.

“I’m speaking for myself here,” he began his speech, his bronze gong held tightly between his hands, “There are a thousand and one people to thank but above all of them is one, my Manager Steve who truly truly believed in me when I told him of the song, and he believed in me even when I was a mess in his office and two, to my ex-girlfriend, Holly, because through this song I understood parts of myself that have haunted me my entire life which began with her.”

He walked off, his debut single blasting through but he stopped and came back to the microphone and his song stopped playing too.

“Oops,” he chuckled into the microphone, “I forgot one person to thank.” He paused, dramatically and the audience collectively held their breath. “To Meghan Trainor,” he said, letting his voice drip with menace, “Just like my seat, you can’t get my award, so suck a dick!”

 

**~     ~     *     ~     ~**

“Rules for tonight are: no social media, get horribly smashed, get laid and have an unbelievable time.”

Zayn paused, his shot of vodka mid-air. “Getting _you_ laid,” he corrected.

“Right. Getting me laid,” he chuckled and they both drowned their shots.

It was several hours after People’s Choice Awards, and true to their word, Zayn and Niall were going clubbing as stated in their Best Friend Tag video (which was nearing 371 million views). However, the venue changed; they would not be in New York City but decided to go clubbing right here in Miami. They were currently in Niall’s Hilton Presidential Suite taking pre-drinks before their night began.

“This is why I hate vodka,” mumbled Zayn setting his glass down after his fourth shot. “Tastes like water.”

“Alright, Mr Russia, just because we get buzzed on little shots of vodka, don’t hate us.”

“You drink a whole two six-pack of Guinness and don’t feel anything.”

“I’m Irish,” he winked and then clasped his hands. “Are we ready?” Zayn nodded, eyes twinkling. “I feel like we should document this moment.”

“You said no social media.”

“I meant for my own gallery.”

Zayn rolled his eyes but was already taking out his phone and they snapped photos of themselves. Probably more than was allowed for two male 20-somethings but they were in Miami. Who cared?

Niall jogged into the living room of his hotel Suite and shoved his phone in Eleanor’s hand to take photos of him and Zayn.

“Be careful tonight,” she warned as she snapped photos of them; Niall doing ridiculous faces and Zayn looking like a model in a photoshoot (when is he never?).

“I will,” sing-songed Niall.

“Was talking to Zayn.” Niall flipped her off and Zayn laughed. “But I’m serious. I want updates. Every two hours, okay?”

Niall grunted as he accepted his phone back. “Stop being such a mama bear.”

“Zayn?”

“I will, promise,” he answered her.

“Do you have enough money? Remember this is America and not your fantasy world where people carry hundred dollar bills like it’s a normal thing.”

“Got 20s in my pocket,” said Zayn, “and 50s which we can get change from fast food restaurants easy.”

“And –”

“Are you quite finished?” inquired Niall impatiently. “It’s midnight already and I’d like to get his night started.”

“You better bring someone hot and attractive or I’ll send them walking right out!”

“Yes Mom,” he groaned. He leaned down and kissed her temple. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I’m binge watching _13 Reasons Why_ so I’ll be here all night till I clock out,” said Eleanor.

“Is this how you’re celebrating your Youtube Star award?”

“We said we’ll celebrate in London….”

“Right,” murmured Niall because he really had forgotten that part.

“Honestly, how bad is your memory?”

“I love you, El,” Niall called out heading for the door.

“Keep him safe,” Eleanor said when Niall was not within earshot.

Zayn nodded at her. “Promise.”

“Hug?” she asked sweetly and how could Zayn say no? He leaned down to hug her and minutes later they were outside Hilton hotel, flagging down a cab. They entered one and Niall told the cab driver the address of the club he had Googled earlier.

“You boys going to be safe?” he questioned.

“Course, Sir,” answered Niall. The cab driver stepped on the accelerator and their night began. The Club Niall had Googled was dead, quite literally. It shut down two years ago due to fraud and other charges that Niall stopped reading and was rolling his eyes at Zayn who was snickering at him.

The second club was, well, not so much a club but a strip club and Niall thought it was way early in their night for strip clubs. They were not even tipsy! The third club had a long, long queue and Zayn whined and complained that his feet were hurting (he was wearing boots), it was hot (he was donned in a leather jacket), and sweaty people kept bumping into him.

Their fourth stop was not a club, nor a restaurant, but a clothing shop. A vintage clothing shop to be specific.

“What are doing here?” asked Zayn, looking at the vintage shop with a confused look on his face.

“If I’m being honest Zayn, we’re going out, to clubs and whatever and we’re going to meet sweaty people. Why the bloody fuck would you wear a leather jacket?”

He looked affronted. How dare Niall insult his signature look! “It’s my look!”

“Your look is making you whiny and that is not what this night is about. So you’re going to ditch the jacket and the shirt, yes the shirt,” he said when Zayn opened his mouth to complain, “and find something in this shop to wear.”

“You better be paying,” he muttered after he had an eye battle with Niall and he lost.

“Sure. Things here are pretty cheap.”

Nearly 30 minutes later, what with Zayn not finding something his style and then Niall refusing his choices because they looked thick and he would start complaining he was hot, they were out of the vintage shop and well, quite sober. Painfully so, in Niall’s opinion. Nevertheless, Zayn was donned in something light, no jackets or blacks or boots.

“You’re not Googling clubs anymore,” Zayn said, snapping Niall’s phone out of his hand. Perhaps he was a little mad at Niall or he was also feeling too sober, Niall let him. “You’ve so far come up short in choosing good clubs.”

“The strip club didn’t look bad…”

“It’s unhygienic,” scowled Zayn. “Oh look. There’s this one that isn’t far from here,” he said looking up and searching for road signs. “It’s just down the road, then we make a right, another right, and it’ll be pretty obvious when we see it.” He looked up from the phone. “It actually says that. On Google!”

“How many right turns?” he asked, accepting his phone.

“Two, just after that red light,” pointed Zayn.

“Hey, I’m happy you’re out here with me,” Niall told him, suddenly shy. Zayn gazed at him, a smile spreading across his face. “It’s nice.”

“It is,” he agreed. “And congrats on your wins tonight.”

“You as well,” he fist bumped Zayn. “We both floored People’s Choice.”

“You more than me,” he snorted. “I loved the Meghan speech.”

“All my speeches were amazing.”

“Wait,” Zayn held him back with a hand on Niall’s shoulder, “I know you and Louis are not talking, at all, but did you really have to do that? Wasn’t it mean… ish?”

“It’s been a long time coming, s’all I can say. And new rule,” he added when he saw Zayn’s frown, “no talk of work.”

Zayn visibly inhaled, then exhaled through his pink lips. “Fine. For tonight.”

“Good.”

“Do you mind if I smoke before we go in?” he asked Niall and Niall made a go-ahead motion with his hand.

Niall, for what is the millionth time, stood mesmerized by Zayn smoking. He looked so calm, so cool like—like someone so cool. His fingers round his Dunhill cigarette were elegant, his pink lips surrounding it made his lips twitch and when his cheeks blew in from taking a drag, Niall’s lips parted and eyes stung from staring hard and long.

The fifth try was their good luck charm. The Club was in full blast, music blasting around them, bouncing off the colored wall, the neon lights shining bright above them and below them the blue dance floor illuminating the bodies swaying to the music playing.

Zayn and Niall hit the bar on account of getting drunk, or simply put, not being sober, first. They drowned several shots, Zayn called on whiskey shots, and Niall ordered a beer.

“Hey there!”

Niall beer froze on his lips as he turned to where the low, husky voice came from. To his right was a man who looked like was in his mid-thirties, taller than him, buzz cut and one heck of a set of white teeth. Like, they were glowing. And no, Niall was not drunk, he just had _really_ white teeth.

The man laughed and Niall blinked in confusion. “I get that a lot.”

Huh?

“Do you think and speak at the same time?” he questioned. And. Oh! Niall had been voicing his thoughts.

“Sorry but your teeth are really, really white,” he said.

“You look like you’ve been to the dentist recently as well. Braces?”

“Took them off two, three year ago,” admitted Niall. “I’m Niall, and this is my friend, Zayn.”

“I’m Paul,” he introduced himself, white teeth on full display. He looked behind Niall and greeted Zayn as well. “Hey Zayn!” Zayn raised his glass of whiskey in greeting. “So what brings you two here?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“What?”

For winning nearly all the categories we were nominated for at People’s Choice, his mind answered. “Uh….” He stalled and turned to look at Zayn for help.

“We finished a really tough Case and finally caught the serial killer that’s been terrorizing Miami.”

Niall had ‘WTF?!’ written all over his body but Paul seemed to buy Zayn’s story. “Really? You’re FBI or what?”

“That’s a secret,” said Zayn and his eyes floated to Niall, so did Paul’s, and slyly said, “But this one is.”

“Really, Niall?”

Niall pretended to be shy and secretive and ended up winking at Paul. “Enough about me. What do you do?”

“I’m a warrior poet.”

Niall nodded, not knowing what he meant. He was too busy nodding, and staring at Paul’s white teeth, he did not hear Zayn snorting into his glass.

“Uh… so what are you? A poet? Poem reader?”

Niall gripped his beer idly as Paul inched closer to Niall, lowering his eyelids. “My heart is humming a tune I haven’t heard in years! / There are ways to make of the moment, a topiary so the pleasure’s in walking through.”

“Wow! That’s amazing Paul.”

“Rita Dove,” said Zayn interrupting Paul’s musing. “ _Flirtation_.” Paul grrr’d, actually grrr’d at Zayn. “You’re not a, what did you call yourself, warrior poet? You’re a fluke.”

“I am warrior poet.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Zayn,” Niall hissed, elbowing  him hard in the ribs. Paul ignored their commotion, choosing to lean back into Niall.

“You have changed me already. I am a fireball / That is hurtling towards the sky where you are.”

Niall was awed. “That is—”

“ _Poem to an Unnameable Man_ ,” drawled Zayn. “By Dorothea Lasky. Do you have anything of your own?”

“I do too”

Niall sipped his beer, choosing to concentrate on Paul’s glittering teeth.

“Then while we live, in lovelet’s so persever / That when we live no more, we may live ever.”

Niall pinned in his mind to Google the meaning of “persever” or better yet he could ask Paul what it meant. Except, Zayn beat him to it, not to ask, but to discredit Paul yet again.

“ _To My Dear and Loving Husband_. Anne Bradstreet,” said Zayn dryly. “You’re reall—”

“Zayn, stop it!” Niall chided him. Zayn gazed at him, his glass now empty. “Leave him—”

“He’s lying to you by claiming he has written these poems.”

“Who cares?”

“Exactly. A warrior poet appreciates other’s work.”

Zayn slowly turned his head to Paul, levelling him with a look. “By stealing other’s works?

“Or who his spill of beauty can forbid? / O, none, unless this miracle have might / That in black ink my love may still shine bright.”

“Was wondering when you’d get to Shakespeare,” deadpanned Zayn.

“I love Shakespeare,” said Niall and Paul smiled at him. “I didn’t know you had dimples.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Paul winked, his voice as smooth as whiskey. “So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth, still fragrant with beer—”

“That doesn’t even rhyme,” interjected Zayn and Niall honestly wanted to crack his beer on Zayn’s head. Tonight was his night to get laid and so far, that was becoming a distant goal in the horizon.

“I personalized it.”

“From Ella Wilcox, no less. Say something of your own.”

“Some people are made for each other/ Some people can love one another for life, how ‘bout us?”

“Yes,” answered Niall, blushing.

“You’re on songs now?” Zayn sighed, nonchalantly. “You don’t know any more poets?”

Niall asked Paul, “Songs?”

“Champaign, _How ‘Bout Us_.”

“Is there somewhere we can go to be alone?” whispered Paul.

“No!”

“Zayn…”

“No. Listen here Paul, you’re becoming creepy really fast and I won’t hesitate to arrest you.”

For a moment Paul looked stricken with fear but he schooled his face when he saw Niall gulping his beer in an attempt to hide from the world. “You wouldn’t.”

“Yes I would, on intellectual theft.”

“Inte _what_?”

“We’re leaving,” Zayn said to Niall. He took his beer out of his hand and set it on the bar.

“But I’m having fun!”

“You can’t make him leave,” Paul protested.

“Yes we can.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous Niall and I have a connection.” That took Niall by surprised, and it seemed Zayn too. “You’re jealous I can get—”

Niall never did hear the end of that sentence as he was dragged across the club and out the door. “What the fuck Zayn? I was having a good time with Paul.”

Zayn ran his fingers through his hair. “With that loser? With the creepy smile?”

“He has nice teeth,” he defended. He watched Zayn walking a little in front of him, then turning back to him. “Why were you cockblocking me?”

“You wanted to sleep with that guy?” he asked, horrified. “He was an arse and he claimed he wrote those assed poems he kept reciting.”

“I liked his poems.”

“They’re not _his_ ,” Zayn practically shouted then slumped his back against the brick wall of the club. Niall stepped back to let a couple of drunk girls pass then took a step forward. Zayn had his match out and lit the cigarette between his teeth. “Plus the club sucked. Playing shit Katy Perry music.”

“I like Katy Perry.” Zayn blew smoke through his lips in response, eyes on Niall in a cool, don’t-care way. “What was it that set you off?”

“He was not himself. A warrior poet?” he scoffed, tapping his cigarette. “C’mon! That’s not even a fucking _thing_.” Zayn leaned further into the wall as he smoked. “He was too old, as well. He had this creepy smile on him.” He leaned his head against the wall looking at the blinking stars up above. “And did you smell the cheap aftershave he had on? And his tattered shoes? I swear, Niall, that fucker was homeless.” A silence stretched between them. “I didn’t like him.”

Niall slowly clapped. “Finally, the truth.”

“A new rule,” said Zayn as he smashed the butt of his cigarette against the wall, “you’re not taking someone old.”

Niall considered this. “What is old?”

“Above 30 years. Actually, 27 is the limit.”

“What if he looks like Pep Guardiola? A sexy 40-year old something?” he asked, dreamily.

“27, Niall.”

Niall conceded. “How did you know what poems he was reading?”

“I like Literature,” he simply answered.

So their night continued, not before Zayn updating Eleanor on their whereabouts and the night itself (skipping out the creepy parts on Paul),  with them both in a taxi heading to a different club, this time a gay club, on the other side of Miami.

It was quite far, the meter on the taxi running high that they both got out as Niall spotted McDonald’s and his stomach churned at that moment. They crossed the street, Niall jogging to the restaurant, as Zayn waited for the pedestrian light to turn green.

“There are no cars, you cunt,” shouted Niall from across the street. He walked in, and looking through the menu on display when Zayn came up from behind him minutes later. “What are you having?”

“I’ve literally just arrived.”

“So what are you having?”

Zayn rolled his eyes and looked up at the display menu. He looked to the teenager behind the counter and placed his order, then looked at Niall… who looked back at him. “Niall?”

“Oh. Sorry. Same as his.”

“You just want chicken nuggets?” asked Zayn doubtfully. Niall nodded with a loud, ‘Yep.’ Niall, beating Zayn to it, slumped money on the counter to pay for their meals but jogged ahead making Zayn carry their food on a tray.

“I don’t know when was the last time I was at McDonald’s,” murmured Niall, munching on a chicken nugget.

“Last year…” he guessed and they both chuckled. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you think you’re, y’know, fully, uh, yourself?”

Niall frowned at him. “What?”

“Like in your skin?”

“My what?”

“Are you fully gay is what I’m trying to ask,” he said quickly and hid his mouth behind his Large cup of Sprite.

“You could’ve just asked,” he pointed out, laughing at Zayn. Zayn shrugged. He propped his feet on top of the couch seat and leaned back into it. “I don’t think I am gay anymore, I definitely am. Bisexual, though, can’t stop loving the ladies.” Zayn rolled his eyes. “This Irish charm is enough for both sexes.”

Zayn rolled his eyes for a longer time. “Idiot.”

“But I am bisexual and this night is to, I don’t know, seal the deal? Make it final? Permanent?”

“I get it. You’d need to know for sure that you are what you are and you need to confirm it.”

He slurped on his Coke. “’Xactly.”

“Have you told anyone?”

“Apart from you and Eleanor you mean?” questioned Niall and Zayn nodded as he took a chicken nugget off Niall’s box. “No. It’s quite scary, this whole bisexual, gay thing. I hated it, hated myself for being bi, for enjoying kissing boys, and loving it. I didn’t want to be this person.”

“Why?”

“It’s confusing,” he said, truthfully feeling the confusion during the aftermath of kissing, and then having sex, with boys, especially the devilish boy with the devilish eyes. “It’s a fucking rollercoaster. On one end you love it, you love this new side of you, the other end you hate yourself. You don’t want—You didn’t ask for this. And it hit me that you knew I was bi.”

Zayn cocked his head to one side, straw between his lips.

“Like, I didn’t have a whole coming out with you, unlike with Eleanor. I just—said it to you. Plainly. It came out of my mouth and I didn’t even think twice about it.”

“To be honest, you were hangover,” said Zayn remembering the night he drove to whoever-the-boy-was’ house to fetch Niall and drive him back to his hotel in time for Billboards.

“Yeah, but it’s terrifying.”

“It’s terrifying I know you’re gay?” he questioned. Niall chewed on his chicken nugget, choosing to remain quiet. Zayn set his cup down and took Niall’s empty hand in his own. “Like I told you before, that morning after, I don’t care who you decide to be with, I’ll be here, every step of the way.” Niall gazed at him, hopeful. “You could tell me you’re into penguins and I wouldn’t blink.” He squeezed his hand. “I love you, Niall.”

Niall laughed, feeling his throat clogged and not because of the chicken nugget. “Love you, Zaynie Pie.”

“Does being gay improve creativity?”

“No. Why?”

“Then maybe you can finally come up with a kickass nickname for me.”

Niall laughed, wetly. He kept laughing, his cheeks suddenly wet and Zayn’s eyes widened. He stood up and sat beside Niall, pulling him to his chest. “Why you crying?”

“You’re precious,” he cried. “And I don’t think anyone else will be as precious as you. I think the world is going to hate me for who I am, what I am. They’ll pick at me for being me and I’ll have nowhere to hide.”

Zayn pulled back and cupped Niall’s face. His thumbs wiped his cheeks as he gazed at teary Niall. “Don’t you dare, Niall! Don’t you dare hide yourself. I told you before and I’m saying it again: you’ve got sunshine in your veins, always keeping those around you warm. So when you hide yourself, even the tiniest bits you don’t think about, we’re going to wilt and die.”

“Wilt and die?”

“Fuck whoever says you can’t be gay, fuck whoever picks at you for being you. I’ll be there, I’m a call away,” he said, so sincere and meaning all of it that Niall was in his trance, forgetting about crying. “I can’t stop the hate, but I’ll be your shelter when it gets too much because no way in hell would I leave you alone when you’re feeling low, or high, I’ll be near. We’re brothers, remember?”

Niall was floored. He searched Zayn’s eyes, found himself swimming in his honey eyes that he swore had specks of stars in them. “Promise?”

“I’m right here,” he whispered and Niall laid his forehead on his shoulder.

“Even when no one likes me?”

Zayn peppered his cheek with loud kisses that Niall was squirming in his arms, laughing. “We’ll get through it all. You and I.”

“Till it all ends?”

“Not the end. Always.”

Niall pulled his head back chuckling under his breathe and swatted Zayn’s arm. “Are you quoting Harry Potter?”

“Always,” he repeated, winking.

Niall beamed at him, eyes shining under fluorescent lights and surrounded by fatty foods, fizzy drinks, and a best friend to die for; he’s never felt luckier in this life. So when he leaned in, Zayn’s gaze flickering down to his nose then up, and he pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth, he ignored the sirens in his brain telling to back off, Zayn has a girlfriend and he should not—

He ignored them more when he wrapped a hand round Zayn’s neck and shut his eyes. He lingered, enjoying this more than he should until Zayn whispered, “Are you going to have ear sex with me?”

Niall smiled against his cheek. “No,” he answered, lips brushing his earing. “That was a one-time thing.”

“Bummer.”

Had Niall not been enjoying the feel of Zayn’s unshaven jaw on his own (embarrassingly bare) jawline, he might have heard the disappointed tone.

“Now, c’mon, it’s almost three a.m. and you’ve got to bag someone,” said Zayn, moving back to his seat.

“Can’t leave my food!”

“Inhale it then we leave.”

“I do not inhale my food, you fucker!”

“Do too,” retorted Zayn, sipping his Sprite.

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

“Do. Too.”

“Do not, you wanker.”

“Fucker.”

“Cunt.”

“Ballsack.”

“Oh, you wound me.”

Zayn smiled innocently. “I try.”

 

 **~     ~     *     ~     ~**  


****

“Waddup my chicken nuggets,” Niall shouts to his phone, opened on Snapchat video. “Out and about in the streets of Miami, checking out what’s up with Zayn the Amaze—” He turned the camera to his right.

“I thought we said no videos?”

Niall promptly turned the camera back on him. “Party pooper he is!... and no I’m out. Why are Snapchat videos always short?”

“C’mon, we said no social media tonight,” said Zayn, almost reaching the end of his cigarette.

Niall sighed. “Fine, fine. So that’s the gay club we’re heading to?”

Zayn nodded, throwing his cigarette away. “Looks empty, if I’m being honest.”

The outside of Chinn Club Mega looked quiet, too quiet for a Club. The outside looked good for a club, flashing lights, wide open door with velvelly cushion stuck to the door, and inside—

The both of them were slapped with _noise_. Inside was a complete contrast to the outside. The Club was in full swing and full like packed sardines in a tin. Niall felt like he was in _gay heaven_ if there ever was such a thing. There were attractive males, and females, some were shirtless others not, some had long hair, others in dreads—

A sweaty pushed him and he fell sideways into Zayn. “Sorry, man.”

“S’alright. Do we like it?” Zayn asked and Niall nodded, stoked.

They made their way to the bar, drowned in rainbow tot glasses Niall lost count. He pulled Zayn to the dance floor where they began dancing, shaking their hips and swaying their legs, hands up, up, up in the air towards the glittered high ceiling.

He does not know how long he was dancing for but along the way he opened the buttons of his shirt, three, four bodies were pressed to his back and one could not take his hands off him.

“You have killer eyes,” he murmured.

Niall looked up and he found himself looking into grey eyes that reminded him of glitter, for some reason. “James.”

“Tom.”

For a moment Niall panicked thinking it was Tom Felton a.k.a Draco Malfoy but looking at the lad, he was most definitely not. He looked like he sold old records and smoked his weed on the regular. And now that he looked closer, he was wearing contacts.

But he had no time to get to speculate on who this _Tom_ fella was as his lips were on him. Well, Niall was right. Tom does smoke a lot of weed. Probably too much for his liking as Tom flicked his tongue against his. He opened his mouth for him, Niall scratching his wet scalp as he licked Niall’s mouth clean.

“You’re hot,” Tom breathed in his ear, hot and wet and it should irk Niall but he did not care. He kissed him to Armin van Buuren, the House beats loud in his ear and saliva and tongues in his mouth.

“I need a drink,” Niall yelled above the House music.

“Body shots?” Tom smirked at him. Niall nodded and Tom grabbed his hand and dragged him to another part of the club where it was less crazy than the dance floor. “Take off your shirt, sit on the table and put this in your mouth.”

Niall did as he was told. He watched him pour colourless liquid into rainbow colored tot glasses, limes, salt and well, what looked like TicTacs. Niall flinched when Tom squeezed lime juice down his neck but commanded his body to stay still. Then he felt small pricks, like tiny crystals on his neck and then Tom’s tongue, licking it all clean.

Tom came into his view and sucked on the lemon in his mouth. Niall threw the lemon away, grabbed his neck, and smashed their lips together. He stuck his tongue down his throat and Tom moaned on his lips. He climbed on top of Niall on the table, in between Niall’s legs, and bit down on the pearly white skin on his shoulder. Niall’s fingers dug into Tom’s scalp, fluttered his eyes shut and let Armin van Buuren take over his senses.  


**~       ~       *       ~       ~**  
  


“Why did we have to leave?” whined Zayn, seated in the back of the taxi. “I was having fun!”

After several more body shots with Tom, a predictable blow job (that honestly has his jaw aching), Tom was getting uncomfortably close to Niall. The clingy kind. Niall was lucky to have found Zayn smoking what looked like weed with a couple of high people in the basement of the club. He simply snatched him from the circle they were sat in and walked out of the club, not looking back.

“Tom was clingy.”

“Who is Tom?” giggled Zayn on Niall’s shoulder.

“Some idiot who basically smokes weed twenty-four-seven. And his dick tastes like sweat.”

Zayn giggled hysterically on his shoulder in lieu of responding.

“Are you high?”

Zayn giggled some more. “No.”

Niall looked at him, eyes glassy and smiling joyfully at him he briefly wondered when was the last time Zayn had, well, lived in the moment. “What were you smoking? Thought you quit weed?”

“I didn’t know it was weed at first but then I couldn’t resist so I continued.” Zayn hummed happily. “Gay people are so fun.”

Niall laughed, shaking his head. Zayn suddenly sat up in the taxi, too fast, as he stumbled forward bumping his head on the passenger seat in front.

“Ow!”

“Sit down for a second, think you’re too high.”

Zayn shook his head, pouting. “M’not. I’m sober, you hear me.”

“Where to?” asked the taxi driver looking at the both of them in his rear view mirror.

“Do you know where the Up Coke is?” Niall asked and the taxi driver took a while before answering in the affirmative. “Take us there.”

“Where’s that?” Zayn whispered loudly.

“You folks from around here?”

“Born and bred in New York, we are,” said Niall, helping Zayn sit properly in the back seat. Zayn whined that he was uncomfortable so he tried standing up, his head banging against the roof of the taxi. He fell forward, straight onto Niall’s lap and purred, like a happy cat.

“You don’t look like you’re Americans…”

“Well I’m a bartender so I don’t come out in the day often,” said Niall, “and Abdul here is a model.”

“Model you say?”

“What do you do?” he questioned then facepalmed himself. What else would a taxi driver be doing? Drive a taxi for fun?

“A businessman?”

 _Or not_ , he thought. “What type of business?”

Zayn sat up then, Niall drawing his eyes away from the taxi driver to Zayn who had his head laid near Niall’s shoulder and was looking out the window.

“You two look right for my business,” said the taxi driver and Niall narrowed his eyes. “Hmm, yes… just right.”

“Uhh…” Niall was stalling. He looked out the window in hopes of knowing where they were, just even a building, or even a familiar tree, so that they could hop off the taxi and catch another. But he was in Miami and that was as much as Niall knew. “Right for what?” he eventually asked.

“For my muse business.”

“What’s that’s?” was what Zayn asked. Niall looked over at him and he did not look as high as he did a couple of minutes before.

“I have a webcam business that my muses are—”

“You’re a pimp!” giggled Zayn. Niall gaped at Zayn and then at the taxi driver when Niall thought he was going to correct him but he sheepishly was smiling at the road ahead.

“And why would you suggest that to us?”

“Well, your friend Abdul has cheekbones for days and I can cut myself running my hand along it and you,” he looked back at Niall real quick, “your eyes.”

“Thank you, Sire,” saluted Zayn and fell back into the seat.

“Welcome Abdul.”

Niall frowned at the longing look the taxi driver was giving Zayn that he shouted, “Stop the taxi.”

“But you haven’t reached your destination.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agreed airily.

“Doesn’t matter. We aren’t going to Up Coke anymore.”

“Why?” Zayn whined and shrieked, “Ow!” when Niall pinched him. The taxi driver dropped them off – wherever they were – not forgetting to give them his business cards that he sleekly slipped into Zayn’s hand. As soon as they were out of the taxi, Niall took the card and threw them in the bin.

“Asshole!”

“Maybe I want to be, what did he call it, a muse?” giggled Zayn.

“He’s so creepy.”

“And did you call me Abdul?” he questioned him, finally registering the fake name Niall gave the taxi driver.

Niall chuckled in response and began looking around, seeing where they were, if they were far from Up Coke, and where the hell were cars? They currently looked like they were in a suburb. Zayn collapsed on the grass and lay flat, spreading his arms around him.

“I don’t think it’s far from here,” said Niall, reading the Map app on his phone. “Walking could take sort of 35 minutes… which is a lot—hey, hey, Zayn! You alright?”

Zayn had his hands covering his eyes and his mouth open, bottom lip trembling. He shook his head against the grass and Niall fell to his knees and helped him up. Zayn refused choosing to lay on the grass instead.

“What’s wrong, Zayn? Why you crying?”

“I thought I’d be happy by now.”

“What?” he asked confused. He saw Zayn’s Adam’s apple bobble in his throat and his hands moving away from his whiskey eyes and lying flat on the grass beside his head.

“When I left One Direction, I did it because I was done. I was finished with it and no use watering a dead plant, right?” he chuckled but it was hurtful to Niall’s ears. It was marred with exhaustion and gloom. “I apologized. To my Mom for leaving the band, to Simon, to Liam, to Harry, to Louis, to the Syco Management as a whole and the rest. I apologized publicly to fans for leaving, trying my best to explain why I left but it came across as asshole-y so it didn’t feel right. For nearly all of 2015 I spent it apologizing.”

Zayn blinked up, up at the skies, up at the people he apologized to, to the family he disappointed, the fans, his best friends, his—everybody. He blinked at them and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“It was not enough. You’re the only who accepted my apology.”

“That’s not true.”

“None of the others,” he said and Niall assumed he meant Harry and Co., “wanted to hear anything from me. I said sorry to my Dad who still thinks I made a mistake. To the fans who still hate me for leaving—”

Niall dug his fingers in his silky hair and Zayn’s eyes fluttered shut.

“You can’t think about this Zayn. It’s all in the past.”

“Leaving was going to make me happy, I knew it.” Niall could hear the ‘But.’ It was as loud as thunder. “But I’ve left, I’ve done what I’ve, for a long time, wanted to do yet… I fell like there’s a hole in my head.”

“You’ve done amazing things ever since last year. We can’t ignore all the drama but we are all in a better place.”

“But that’s just it; I’m _not_ in a better place when I thought I would be.”

“But you like the music you’re making now, right?” he tried, his mind jumping over itself trying to figure out where in the night Zayn began wallowing.

“It’s not just about the music it.”

“I—I don’t understand,” he said, frustrated with himself. Here was Zayn, vulnerable and raw and he could not understand him. Zayn grunted as he sat up, head bowed down, finger turning round and round the red Deadpool ring he gifted him.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does. Just. Help me understand, please.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Your feelings are not stupid,” he told him. Zayn gazed at him, his honey brown eyes searching as if Niall held the answers to his confused state of mind. “I promise you I’ll do my best to understand whatever it is you’re going through if you just tell me.” Zayn remained quiet, eyes boring into Niall’s concerned blue ones.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he confessed, quiet and low. Niall swallowed. Not responding, he reached out and carded his fingers to Zayn’s silky hair. It seemed to help, Zayn was looking more at ease and his lip not trembling anymore. “I don’t think I can go on.”

“What—What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. I feel like I’m done.”

Niall’s eyes flashed wide open. “No Zayn! You can do this.” He crushed him in a hug. “You’ve got to hold on. You can’t kill yourself because there are a thousand and one—”

“What?”

“Please don’t kil—”

“I don’t want to kill myself, Niall.”

Niall pulled back, breathing a sigh of relief. “Really?”

Zayn chuckled, softly. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Then what did you mean by you being done?” he questioned.

“Singing.” Niall breath hitched. He stared at him, shocked and stunned. Zayn took this as a cue to go on. “It’s been a year since I left. I’ve made albums, made song covers, done what I’ve wanted to do, kept my beard for crying out loud, and yet I still feel the same when I was about to leave One D.”

“Unhappy?”

“But this time I can’t quit. Singing makes everyone happy. It puts a smile on their faces and I can’t stand to disappoint them.”

“What do you want Zayn?” he asked, hands threaded in Zayn’s hair again. It was just so addictive, do not blame him.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is!”

“No it’s—Ow!” he groaned when Niall pushed him back, falling smack on the grass. As he got up, Niall’s hands pinned his chest down and he straddled him. “What are you—”

“If you can’t be what you want, you become what you’re not, Zayn, and I never, in my entire life, want to see you,” he jabbed his finger in the middle of Zayn’s chest, “be a smaller version of you. That’s not what you were born to do—”

“It’s not that easy!”

“It isn’t, obviously, otherwise what you want wouldn’t be worth fighting for. You’ve got to be brave, which you already are.”

“I’ll disappoint everyone.”

“What do you want?” he demanded him, his hands gripping Zayn’s jacket which. What? When did Zayn have a jacket? At what point did Zayn have a jacket because the last time he did have one was when they entered the vintage shop and he came out with a shirt alone.

“Doesn’t matter anymore.”

“The guilt of last year March has made you crumble inside yourself, it’s eating you and you have to stop it.”

“I can’t,” Zayn whined, slowly turning his head left and right. “It’s too much and everyone’s counting on me.”

“To do what? Make them happy?” Zayn remained quiet. Niall slapped his chest. “And then what? When will you be happy? When will it be your turn to make _yourself_ happy?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What do you want, Zayn?”

Zayn remained quiet. He looked past Niall at the tree looming above them in the dark night.

“Zayn!”

Zayn choked, blinking rapidly.

“Zayn Javadd Malik.”

“Niall… stop…”

“What is it you want?”

“Please stop asking…”

Niall bent over, his fringe loosely brushing over Zayn’s forehead. “What do you want, Malik?”

Zayn circled his hand over Niall’s wrists which were pinning him down. “I can’t tell you…”

“What is it you want?”

“To be a vet.”

It was quiet, the way he said it, as if it did not matter, like it was another item to be ticked off on a grocery list. Zayn flattened beneath Niall, his hands falling back from holding to Niall’s wrist, his hand rolling to his left. Niall let go, then, and sat up straighter, and gazed down at him.

“Since when?”

“Since you got me Malfoy,” he whispered, talking of the kitten Niall gifted him months back.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“Because it—”

“Doesn’t matter?” Niall scoffed. “Zayn, I told you to never downplay what you feel. You promised me to never do that and I swore I’d never lie to you.”

But that was not what was bothering Niall. What bothered him was why Zayn thought wanting to quit his singing career and be a veterinarian was something not important. It was not worth talking about, not worth listening to, not worth mentioning and it killed Niall. How could he think wanting a little happiness be bad for himself?

“It doesn’t matter because the dream died when my Dad was sick. Sometimes it feels that I killed my dream to make my family happy.”

“Your Dad is safe, he’s healthy so what’s stopping you now?”

“Sometimes it feels like it’s still what I want versus my family. Their happiness, their needs, wants, against my selfish wants.”

Niall bit his tongue. This was Zayn venting out, airing out his heart and him questioning him, drilling holes in his heart about his passion was only going to shut Zayn down.

“But having Malfoy around has rekindle my desire to be a vet. To go back to school and study Veterinary Medicine.”

Zayn stopped, his Adam’s apple bopping multiple times. Niall stilled on top of Zayn when he ran his hands up his thighs. He bent his head over seeing Zayn’s tattooed hands trailing on his blue jeans and he could not look away, could not look elsewhere but at the hands on his thighs.

“What scared me, when I realized this, was how fast I would give up all of this just to do that.”

“You know,” Niall told him, as if whispering a secret, “my Ma once said, when I was in the hospital after a football hit my knee really, really badly, that we’re all born with little lights inside of us, like tiny bulbs. Over the years, as we grow older, one by one those lights go out. Like if your girlfriend cheats on you, if your father walks out on you, when you fail a class, when your dream of being a footballer dies in the hospital…”

Zayn chuckled beneath Niall.

“So as we grow older the lights get less and less and we are dimmed.”

Zayn’s face fell. “So when we’re forty? How many do we have?”

He smiled, not reaching his eyes. “I asked her the same thing. Ma said that the lights can be re-lit when we feel love in our hearts and only are dimmed when there is no love in our hearts. So when our lights are bright again, we use it as a guide in the dark, finding ourselves.”

Zayn’s hands were still on Niall’s thigh which was distracting enough but now his thumbs were drawing circles and he could just feel his thighs shaking from the attention. “Your Mom is a smart lady.”

Niall laughed, softly between them. “You have a million little lights in you Zayn, please, please don’t dim them all. I can see it like how you see me living in my head, one by one your lights go off in you.”

“You’re one of my lights.”

“I’m not enough,” he told him.

“You couldn’t play football, how did you ever light your lights?”

“I auditioned for X Factor. I taught myself the guitar. I travelled the world in a super fantastic band, I took up a photography class, I always have Guinness around, Eleanor and I live together… you’re here with me—” Zayn’s lips parted at that but Niall, with his entire will, chose to ignore Zayn’s kissable pink lips, “it’s about finding something that lights the little lights in you. No matter how small, or big, as long as they don’t go out.”

And then it came crushing on Niall. He was straddling Zayn whose hands were on his thighs. The same thighs pinned on Zayn’s middle and not forgetting his hands were still on Zayn’s warm body. He quickly got off him, muttering, ‘Sorry ‘bout your shirt’ but Zayn paid no attention to his words instead taking Niall’s hands with his own.

“Thank you for listening,” he said and stretched his neck to plant a kiss to Niall’s temple. “You’ve cleared some things for me.”

“No problem.”

“And now for you night plan: getting laid.”

Niall laughed, wiping grass stains off his knees. “It’s almost four in the morning. Think we should call it a night.”

“No way Niall! We set an agenda and we stick to it,” Zayn said, grabbing his hand and stepping onto the road with Niall. “We’re going to find some  gay place for you to find someone.”

“It’s not—”

“Hush! We’re getting you someone.”

Niall laughed in response. Granted, it was all he could do what with Zayn’s warm fingers in his, and his mind buzzing over having sat on Zayn for what felt like eons. He was at an all-time high. And his high lasted all night… until he was hunched over a toilet bowl, puking his intestines out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahhaha the last photo was hilarious i just had to share with you [=
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly appreciated ☺ and i finally got round to Googling who Gonzalez is and WHOOPSIEDAISY the man is quite old.. i thought he was young 0= 
> 
> stay tuuuuned, tutu !!


	18. You And Me Got A Whole Lot Of History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The One D boys gather on Twitter with the fandom holding their breath.

****

 

 

> **I won’t, I won’t let your memory go cause**  
>  **your colors they burn so bright**  
>  **who knows, who knows what tomorrow will hold**  
>  **but I know that we’ll be alright**  
>  **~ The Wanted**

“Morning, slut!”

Niall groaned as he made his way into the kitchen area of his Hilton Presidential Suite. He dragged his bare feet across the floor and sat on one of the high stool and rubbed his pillow face, repeatedly.

“If there ever was a walk of shame, yours would win!”

Niall groaned tiredly.

“I made breakfast. An English breakfast and mimosas.”

“No Guinness?” he asked Eleanor as she set the plate of hot breakfast in front of him and a mason jar of mimosa.

“You drank a lot yesterday so no, no Guinness until we land back in London.”

Niall grunted under his breath. “I’m not that hangover though, so no need for that ban.”

“How come? Didn’t you have a good time.”

Niall stabbed his sausage. “The best.”

“You sound so excited,” she said, deadpan.

“No. It was, promise.”

“You came back late last night. Or should I say this morning. Was it seven, eight ish when you walked back in…”

Niall widened his eyes. “Eight? You sure?”

“Yes, I could hear the moans from my room.”

“Fuck me,” Niall cursed.

“So how was it? Tell me everything and leave nothing out.”

Niall exhaled and swallowed what was in his mouth. “I did something horrible yesterday.”

Eleanor paused, her cup of tea mid-air. “What? What is it?” She leaned away from Niall suddenly. “You didn’t catch anything, did you?”

Niall rolled his eyes. “No!” He stuffed his mouth with eggs. “Not what you have in mind.”

“Okay. Then. What horrible thing did you do?”

Niall held her gaze for a second before taking the tea cup in her hand and taking two gulps. He set the cup down and a vague hand gesture dismissing her plights.  “What I have to say is much more important than _tea._ ”

“Alright. Tell me!”

“At like 5 or something we found this house party. Not found but walked around this suburb area and there was a house party at one of the houses. It was in full swing, many people, drinks, drugs, whatever, everything that a house party has, it had. Except music.”

“There was no music?”

“There was. Sucky music. All that rap and stuff,” he said with a scowl on his mouth. Eleanor rolled her eyes and gestured for him to continue. “So Zayn and I split as soon as he saw a hookah.”

“How did he know she was a hooker?”

“Hookah!” He facepalmed. “Honestly, El!”

“You pronounced it funny.”

“ _So anyway_ I walked over to the drinks section as I was painfully sober, yet again, what with walking to the house and all. Drank. Got drunk. Danced. Did whatever—”

“What is ‘whatever’?”

“Kissing, body shots, blowjobs, normal stuff.”

“Were they hot?”

“Some yes, others not so much. As a sidenote, I have never loved my eye color as much as yesterday,” grinned Niall. “Bagged me some handsome men.”

“Right,” she said, deadpan.

“So then there was this 40-year old who was there, odd, but he was pretty cool. I made sure he was far from Zayn,” he said and Eleanor interrupted to ask why. “We made a deal that I would hook-up with people below 27-yearsold. We made out and he blew me in one of the bedrooms—fuck! Best blowjob in _years_ , El.”

“He was 40, Niall!”

“He was handsome. Like a Miami version of David Beckham.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Please! There is no such thing as a lookalike Beckham. There is only one and there will ever be _one_.”

Niall smiled around his spoon of baked beans. “Alright, Mrs Beckham. Calm down.”

Eleanor grinned in response and fluttered her eyelashes.

“So then I bumped into this guy, Frank, and I could tell there was something with the way he was looking me. OK, I had my shirt opened but. He was cute, and I had blue eyes,” he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ignoring what you’re doing.”

“Then Zayn, out of nowhere, said I should try the pineapple flavoured shisha but Frank said no, that we were busy. Zayn looked as if he was just noticing he was there and he said, ‘It’ll only take a sec.’ but Frank was having none of that.”

“Cat fights,” Eleanor breathed, barely containing herself.

“You need to stop watching soap operas when I’m not at home.”

Eleanor made a dismissive hand gesture. “Pish posh, Irish man. Continue.”

“I told Frank that it’d only take a minute but Frank said we were busy and he slapped my ass. Zayn said he was boring company and there were far more interesting people than Frank to which Frank looked like he was going to punch Zayn. I politely told Zayn that I’d see him later and then he left.”

“Ooh.”

“He came back later, when we were in the bouncy castle—”

“There was a bouncy castle at the party?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It was yellow, and massive, and smelled like ass inside now that I think about it,” he wrinkled his nose, “but nice. Frank and I were there when Zayn said we should do a shot with him and his new pals at the party.”

“Pals?”

“Some hippie looking people.”

“Wouldn’t peg Zayn to be friends with hippies.”

“Right?” Niall agreed, chuckling. “Frank and Zayn got into a fight. Sort of. It was more insults and I was smashed—well, just tipsy, but I was tired and my legs were aching and hands so yeah I felt smashed. Frank kept telling Zayn he was like an annoying puppy always clinging to its owner and doesn’t know when to leave and Zayn told him he could smell his desperation and that got Frank standing up from the bouncy castle and took a swing at him.”

Eleanor clapped her hands, overjoyed. “Finally. A fight.”

“Zayn ducked and told him to get lost. Frank said, ‘If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re jealous.’ Zayn laughed in his face and asked, ‘Of you?’ to which Frank said ‘Of me _and_ Niall.’”

Eleanor cupped her cheeks with her long manicured fingers. “Drama!”

“There was this eye fight going on between Zayn and Frank and I could literally smell smoke coming off between them. Zayn then had his whole stoic, don’t-care attitude plastered on his face and told Frank that he’ll never have what him and I have. Frank seemed pissed but—”

“Honestly, Nini, can you skip to the part where they fight?”

“There was no fight!”

“Then why the bloody hell am I listening—”

“Because Zayn kissed me.”

Eleanor dropped her hands from her cheeks to the marble countertop, along with her jaw and her eyes wide-open. She was silent. Staring at Niall then she smacked her mouth with her hands.

“Are you going to say anything?” he asked after moments of silence drifted between them

Eleanor blinked but said nothing. Then she removed her hands from her mouth and screamed, “What the fuck Niall James Horan? Explain yourself!”

“I don’t know. Frank was telling Zayn how he’s a better kisser and gives great blowjobs – yes we sucked each other in the bouncy castle before Zayn came along – and Zayn doesn’t. Zayn smirked saying, ‘You don’t know about me and Niall and the things we’ve done.’ and yeah, exactly,” he said rushing through his words on seeing Eleanor’s stunned facial expression, “but Frank bought it and accused Zayn of lying to which Zayn laughed in his face and then kissed me.”

“Get out!”

“I don’t remember how it started but I know how I felt.”

“How?”

“His hands were all over me, my face, my neck, his nose pressed to my cheek, his lips were,” he fluttered his eyes shut and bit his bottom lip, “delicious and fuck! He’s such a good kisser.”

“He is?”

Niall nodded joyfully. “And he French kisses so, so good. Like...” Niall let his sentence peter out, as he sighed in nostalgia for the night. “He tasted like whiskey, gummy bears and Hip-Hop.”

She leaned in, watching Niall’s red cheeks and reddening neck and his eyes full of memories of Zayn’s lips on his. “What else?”

“His hands were soft on my neck like he was afraid he’d break my neck and I swear I felt like my feet were off the ground and I had to hold his shoulders before my knees gave up.”

“You sound like you enjoyed?” she teased.

“I did,” he answered, voice all serious. “And I’ve never been kissed like that.”

“Is this the horrible thing you did?”

Niall nodded, silently. “And after that I kept thinking of his lips, his tongue, his hands, everything on me. I drank shot after shot, beer and beer, I couldn’t get his taste off my mouth. I kissed literally everything with a cock just to get him off me, off my mind but it didn’t work. Eleanor…”

“Yeah…”

“I like him.”

Eleanor started. “Like. Him?”

“I like _like_ him,” he said, slow and steady as his hands were shaking the fork in his hand, and his feet were tapping the floor fast. His brows little by little furrowed in the middle and the corners of his lips tugged downward. “I like like him. So much,” he looked up from his plate of breakfast to Eleanor.

“Nini,” she said, soft and delicate.

“And now I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, El,” he looked at her, eyes glassy, “how can I feel this way about my best friend? He’s going to hate me if he ever finds out.”

“Hey, hey.” She pulled him close, his head on her bosom. “You’re not alone in this, alright? We’re doing this together. We’ll figure everything out.”

“You boobs have always been a comfort.”

Eleanor smacked his back at the same time a deep voice interrupted them: “Here I thought you were gay…”

Niall pulled back quickly and so did Eleanor, looking up and down at the dark skinned, dreadlocked man in front of them with no shirt on… instead, carrying it.

“Hi Chris,” Niall greeted. Eleanor looked helplessly to Niall then at Chris. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured on Niall’s lips and kissed him passionately all the while Eleanor was emitting questions and questions and questions. Chris ended their kiss with a loud peck and turned to Eleanor. “I’m Chris.”

Eleanor politely waved, not trusting where Chris’ hands had been (most likely on Niall and other places she did not want her mind wandering). “I’m Eleanor. I made breakfast.”

“Thanks. I’m starved.”

Eleanor and Niall made eye contact then as Chris accepted his plate of English breakfast from Eleanor and mason jar of mimosa. She sent ‘Who the fuck is this?’ look while he sent her the ‘Explain later’ look.

“Eh…”

“Sorry,” apologized Niall. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you have salt but you two were staring at each other I could cut the tension with a knife.”

Niall nervously laughed under Chris’ look. “Oh don’t mind her. She’s just—El being El.”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him and stuffed her mouth with a Nutella on toast. Just then, shirtless Zayn makes his way into the kitchen area.

“Morning everyone!”

“It’s lunch time, sweetie,” smirked Eleanor. Zayn stung his tongue out while accepting the plate of English breakfast, and mimosa, from her.

“Do you feel as bad as I feel?”

“Worse,” grunted Zayn, munching on his sausage.

Niall and Eleanor had a conversation of their own as Chris asked Zayn about his countless tattoos. Eleanor was visibly smirking at Niall who had a shirtless Zayn seated beside him and she was positive Niall’s heart was on fire if his neck and face was anything to go by.

 ‘The Kiss’, as it had been dubbed famously by Eleanor, was put on hold as life was moving on and there were meetings, lunches, reality to catch up on. Back in London, Niall got to finishing his third song, _Bust The Windows,_ for his future album which he sent to his A &R and Steve; he got a lunch invitation with Hans Zimmer scheduled for Thursday with David Yates (Niall absolutely did not squeal when Hans told him David would be attending) and other general life things such as calling his Ma (“Did ye go see the Grand Canyon?” she asked. Niall rolled his eyes, because, every time he heads to the USA she always asks after if he went to which he reponds, “No, Ma!”), Willie, invited Eóghan over to spend a few days with him in London and then Liam who was inviting him to a party.

“You throw too many parties, Payno,” said Niall over the phone.

_Not that many._

“I’m starting to think you became a footballer for the parties. What next? A girlfriend?”

_Ha Ha, you’re hilarious!_

“When is the girlfriend coming?”

_Not anytime soon. I’m busy with football, working my ass off at training before Conte bites my head off, and then, not forgetting babysitting the four of you._

“Four of us?” he asked curiously. He drew his knees up and opened a new can of Guinness.

_You. Louis. Harry. And Zayn. Not so much him because he keeps himself to himself and Harry can at times behave so basically just you and Louis._

“Daddy Payno never died right?” he joked.

_Niall, Harry told me._

Niall exhaled loudly on the phone. He was waiting for this. “I’m not apologizing for the Best Friend Tag video.”

_You and I both know why Harry said he’s not your friend anymore._

“I’m not apologizing for People’s Choice. If that’s what you want you might as well hang up the phone.

_Calm down, Nialler._

“What’s the real reason you’re calling?”

_I wanted to invite both you and Eleanor to my party tomorrow. Everyone’s going to be there. Luiz, Kanté, Hazard, all of them. You in?_

“Think about it?”

_Since when do you think about attending a party when literally it’s just footballers. This is your wet dream._

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” said Niall ignoring the ‘wet dream’ comment. “You and Zayn were close in the band, right?”

_Yeah, I guess… We were. Why are you asking?_

“Were you guys… close? Physically close?”

_Why’re you asking?_

“Just asking. Tell me.”

_We were close, yeah. We would cuddle in the bus but not always. We’d watch actions movies together, kept making fun of me for loving Batman, but it was fun. Getting high, tattoos, all that._

“Physical?”

_Just the normal stuff._

“Think Liam!”

_I don’t know just normal stuff that we all do. Hugging. Hand holding but not in a couple-y way—_

“Is that all?

_Yeah… Oh wait. There was a time we were having a fight and he was really close. He teased me saying I could never kiss him and I said that he couldn’t._

“Then you kissed him?”

_He kissed me. But kiss is a strong word. Was more like a peck._

“And then?”

_Why are you asking?_

Niall should back off as of now, he thought, so as not to raise suspicion with Liam. Or worse, maybe Liam will put two and two together and figure out he was bisexual!

“No reason,” he mumbled, nonchalantly. “I gotta go.”

_Hey, wait. Are you coming?_

“I’ll let you know.”

He hung up before Liam can come up with another reason for him to attend his football party.

**~     ~     *     ~     ~**

 

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_What loser doesn’t know their boyfriend’s nationality?!_  


Niall, waiting upon Eóghan to finish cooking whatever it was he was cooking in the kitchen, took to Twitter. Specifically, to anything that made Gigi looked bad. Yes, ever since he realized his feelings for Zayn, he took a vast interest in his girlfriend. Odd, probably, but it helped his feelings, thoughts and confusion.

Currently, he was on Cloud Nine. There was a Snap video that one of the Zigi update accounts posted that went viral. In it was Gigi (and other people Niall did not know) and they were having a meal (it seemed) at an Indian restaurant. Gigi made a racial slur where she pretended she was Indian and the video came off with her inferring Zayn was, well, Indian. Or Hindu, to be specific.

Like dangling a worm into the river, Gigi posted her own tweet.

 

 **GiGi Hadid @itsgigihadid**  
_Perfect girlfriends are boring, honey._  


Niall sat up straighter on the couch, a waft of rosemary in the air hitting his nose, and turned up the volume on the TV with Rihanna’s song, _Work,_ playing. Niall turned his thumbs, exercising them because this was Part 2 of passive aggressive behaviour with Zayn’s girlfriend and he had never felt so alive.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_‘Not perfect’ is when U don’t wash the dishes after dinner, loser girlfriend is when U wrongly announce on ELLEN that UR boyfriend is from another country.._  


Ellen DeGeneres had posted her much-awaited interview with Gigi where she was asked how she met Zayn, their first date, including her career with Vogue blah blah blah Niall did not bother watching the rest of the interview. Not after she said, explicitly that Zayn was Indian.

 **GiGi Hadid @itsgigihadid**  
_That was taken out of context!_  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_How is INDIA & PAKISTAN the same bloody country ?! I’m sure Indians & Pakistanis (where UR BF is from) would DISAGREE !_  


On Twitter, ELLEN and Niall vs GiGi were two of the top trends Worldwide.

 **GiGi Hadid @itsgigihadid  
** _Slip of the tongue happens all the time._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _DID U NOT PAY ATTENTION IN CLASS ?! INDIA & PAKISTANI R DIFFERENT PLACES !_

 **GiGi Hadid @itsgigihadid**  
_Pakistani is a nationality sweetie (: @NiallJHoran_  


“Did she _at_ me?” Niall questioned. Not once in their Twitter feud did they directly @ each other, they just knew that Tweets were directed at them but @’ing was new.

“What?” Eóghan called out from the kitchen.

“Nothing,” he called back. Since when does Gigi @ him on Twitter? What happened to their passive aggressive-ness?

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _India is not Pakistan, darling =) @itsgigihadid_

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson**  
_If @itsgigihadid failed Geo then @NiallJHoran failed English._  


“Who the fuck does he think he is?” he yelled at his phone.  Louis entered in the, what fans called, Giall fight (Niall had cringed the first time he read the name and he still does)(they must be Gigi fans because _his_ fans are MUCH more creative) and Niall was seething, seething where he was grinding his teeth. Literally.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@Louis_Stylinson Sorry ? Who’s the one who got a C- in English ? Failed A-levels ?_

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson**  
_Oh look at that! He acknowledges I exist *slow clap* real mature._  


Niall sent him a middle finger emoji and ignored the rest of the Tweets from both Gigi and Louis. One, because, well, he was seeing red when it came to Louis, and two, Zayn sent him a DM asking him to stop arguing with Gigi publicly. So, Niall being Niall, ignored their tweets, ignored fans asking him to clapback at Gigi, ignored all of it and instead tweeted random Tweets.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I’ll never forget U as long as I live now._  


In a scary 2 minutes, Taylor Swift retweeted his Tweet seeing as he was quoting her _I Wish You Would_ song that Niall will never admit but he danced to it with Eleanor for hours as he honestly loved that song. And months later, he bought two concert tickets for him and Eleanor but was disappointed when _I Wish You Would_ was not on the set list. But no matter, _New Romantics_ and _Wildest Dreams_ were on the set list. 

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_It’s U, it’s U, it’s all for U,_  
I tell U all the time, heaven is a place on Earth with U  


It was hundred per cent true. Two hundred per cent even. Whenever he spent his time with Zayn, whether it was making music, him smoking hookah, Niall chilling in his pool and Zayn getting a tan. If it was Zayn teaching Niall to make cocktails and Niall schooling him on Golf 101, whatever it was they were doing, as long as it was together, no matter how small, it felt like he was on cloud nine.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_Cause if 1 day U wake up & find that URE missing me_  
U’ll see me waiting for U on the corner of the street  
I’m not moooooooving  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I’ve got chills_  
They’re multiplying !  


Oh brother! Days since ‘The Kiss’, Niall had been getting goosebumps up and down his arms and legs, his stomach lurching when Zayn posts a smouldering selfies on Instagram (which he saves, saves, saves), his cheeks reddening whenever he received a DING! on his phone and it was a text from none other than Zayn himself, not forgetting the heart eyes he has whenever he was on Youtube (re-)watching Zayn interviews and music videos and Snapchat compilations… anything Zayn, really.

It was all fun and games for Niall, tweeting love songs about Zayn (which Eleanor was suspiciously retweeting all of them with a winky face emoji)(not suspiciously as such as she knew what he was doing) when Miley Cyrus’ controversial video of _Wrecking Ball_ played and suddenly, as if the stars and the moon and all that bullshit, were lining up and everything was making sense.

Zayn was a wrecking ball in his life!

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_U came in like a wrecking ball_  
I never hit so hard in love  
All I wanted was to break UR walls !

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_All U ever did was wreck me  
YEAH U, U WRECK ME !_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_U came in like a wrecking ball_  
_Yeah, I just closed my eyes and swung  
Left me crashing in a blazing fall !_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I never meant to start a war  
I just wanted U to let me in !_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _FUCK U @MileyCyrus!!_ _MAKING ME CATCH FEELINGS AND SO #RELATABLE!! SHE’S A MOTHER GENIUS !!_

As he was eating what Eóghan had been slaving away in the kitchen, Miley Cyrus tweeted him back.

 **Miley Ray Cyrus @MileyCyrus**  
_@NiallJHoran glad I could help ;)_  


Niall laughed aloud then, startling Eóghan sat beside him. On Twitter, you could hear the Miley and Niall (and by extension, Directioners) fans becoming fandom friends. Directioners and Smilers. On Twitter, the top five trends were Niall and Miley related, all about Gigi forgotten, though the sixth trend was about Louis’s photo of his son, Freddie, and Harry sleeping on the bed.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _Is there Part 2 of “Wrecking Ball”? @MileyCyrus IF SO PLEASE MAKE ANOTHER!!!_

 **Miley Ray Cyrus @MileyCyrus  
** _“@SmileyForever are you doing a collabo with Niall from 1D?” @NiallJHoran Part are we?_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@MileyCyrus @SmileyForever for PART 2 WRECKING BALL I am IN !!_  


And well, that was that. It often surprised Niall how easy it was to talk to other famous people. It had never, and probably never will, sunk in that he was _Niall Horan_ and not Nobody Niall, as he often thought of himself. Niall was a private person, truth be told, and he often did not want to be in par with what a lot of famous people did, so it surprised him, despite being private and reserved, how easy he fell in with other famous people.

That was not to say Niall never did use his name to get around, get by, get what he wanted, he did and he was not denying that but only if it was to help his friends and family. With Eleanor he got Lilly Singh a.k.a IISuperwomanII to do a Youtube collab; he got Ed Sheeran to sing at Greg’s wedding, and his memorable favour which was not really a favour, was to invite Deo One D concerts because he was star struck over Harry Styles.

He invited him as often as Deo was free and Harry, being the nicest kid, would talk and chat with Deo and Niall would keel over with laughter at Deo stammering and stumbling over his words but Harry would not point it out, instead finding it endearing and it worked out great, with Deo’s camera full of Harry selfies and pink cheeks.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_Some people are made for each other_  
Some people can love one another for life, how ‘bout us?  


Not a random song in the strictest sense but indirects to how he felt about Zayn. This Tweet he knew Zayn would understand, he _knew_ he would, and Niall was right as later on Zayn replied to his tweet:

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_@NiallJHoran aha! (;_  


If the reason Niall put his phone down then opting to grin at the TV for nearly an hour then screw the weird glances Eóghan kept sending his way. Zayn tweeted him. Moreso, it was an inside joke between them. Close enough. Damned be Eóghan if he was not really watching _Strictly Come Dancing_.

**~     ~     *     ~     ~**

****

  
It seemed that Niall’s Giall Twitter drama for the week was just the start. Harry took to Twitter, after listening to Niall’s interview with Smallzy a fortnight ago and the acceptance Speech at People’s Choice and to say he was mad was an understatement. He was not even being passive aggressive, he was being aggressive (very unlike Harry).

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _HOW DARE YOU SHADE LOU @NiallJHoran?! AND IN FRONT OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE?!_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran YOU CANNOT DISRESPECT YOUR COLLEAGUE WHO YOU’VE WORKED WITH FOR 5 YEARS!_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran LOU WAS AS MUCH PART OF ONE DIRECTION AS YOU ARE AND YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO ‘FORGET’ HIS NAME!_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran AND YOU WERE BEGGING AN APOLOGY FROM US WHEN WE WERE JERKS TO @zaynmalik AND WE DID APOLOGIZE SO WHERE’S YOUR APOLOGY TO @Louis_Tomlinson?_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran YOU CLAIM THAT SOME PEOPLE DON’T DESERVE SECOND CHANCES? WELL MAYBE THE PERSON IN THE MIRROR DOESN’T AFTER ALL…_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran TO QUOTE YOUR SONG, WE’RE ALL HUMAN AFTER ALL!_

 

Harry’s tweets had been trending for a while and he had tweeted them early in the morning. It now all made sense to Niall: the missed calls, Snapchat texts, the text messages and not forgetting the constant Twitter notifications that filled his phone and when he did log in, the many, many mentions that flooded his Twitter timeline and Notifications, he had to physically breathe.

Niall, deep down, knew Harry rarely gets mad. If either of them ever did get mad at Harry, or vice versa, Harry would be the bigger man, sit down with you, and you two would work it out. If it was for something huge, he would let you cool down (and himself) and talk later on. He was a big believer of conversations.

Seeing as Niall and Harry had put their friendship on pause, it may have worsened things. However, seeing Harry lash out publicly to him he knew he had done something wrong. Harry could have texted him, called him, sent angry emojis on his Snapchat, done anything apart from Tweet him publicly, but because he did make Niall felt guilty. Just a little.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@HarryStylinson Always defending UR boyfriend. IF he had a problem with my acceptance speech at People’s Choice (or the Smallzy interview) then he should_ _say something. If not, shut up, don’t be rude & sit down._  


Perhaps that was not the best of response, Niall thought as he re-read his Tweet. But, _carpe diem_ and all that.

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran You recently blocked Lou on everywhere, so how was he to tell you?_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson He has my number…_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson**  
_@NiallJHoran You don’t pick up Lou’s calls!_  


Which. Okay. That much was true, Niall did not deny that. Time to find a new argument it seemed. As he scrolled back up to re-read Harry’s tweets, Twitter was awake yet again, this time other fandoms picked up popcorns, laid back, and watched Directioners run around screaming at each other. Even the ZQUAD were chilled.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson For a year we pretended @zaynmalik was never in 1D so why is me NOT mentioning his name at ONE event a big deal ?_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran That was a different situation! WE were mad at @zaynmalik for leaving but we’ve moved on now!_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson Have we Harry ? Have we really ?_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran Yes!_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson UR BF’s bio says 3/3 One Direction and it has been that way since FEBRUARY! If UR BF can say that, then why tf am I getting backlash for it ? HYPOCRITE!_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran That’s HIS Twitter and HIS Bio, he does whatever he feels like BECAUSE THAT’S HIS PROPERTY. You were LIVE, and a representation of US, a.k.a LOUIS, me, Liam and you._

  
At this point, Directioners were feeling the heat. Forget the Worldwide trends, Directioners between themselves were divided, in the worst possible ways. Larries were on fire and religiously defending Harry while on the other side were Niall stans and ZQUAD defending Niall’s antics and in the middle were fans who wanted the fighting and the drama to simply stop. Those fans tweeted Liam to come online and calm Harry and Niall down as in their hearts, and in reality too, Liam would always be the Daddy.

Niall, attempting to please Harry, unblocked Louis. Random, sure, but he was starting to see it as a whole new level of pettiness that he did not want to keep living on.

 

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson UR BOYFRIEND DOES NOT THINK I AM IN THE BAND! THEREFORE I SAID WHAT HE FELT WHY TF IS HE GETTING PISSED OFF ?!_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran What Louis writes on his Twitter is not a representation of reality. We are still 4/4. (And thank you for unblocking him.)_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson UR welcome. It will always be 5/5 anyway. P.S. Bios R a representation of REALITY !!_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran Are not! Your Bio says “Suck a dick Meghan Trainor” but you don’t really think that?_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@HarryStylinson I DO! She was an ass to me, @EleanorJCalder and @zaynmalik at People’s Choice._  
  
Louis, always at the oddest of times, made an appearance and tweeted him.

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran HE LEFT THEREFORE IT IS ALWAYS GOING TO BE 4/4… or better yet 3/3 because you clearly DON’T want to be part of the band anymore. Just like certain traitors._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@HarryStylinson U keep hating on Zayn for his bravery because U’ve been a chicken in the closet for the longest time._  


It was a double meaning, it was a bloody double meaning and attacking someone for their sexuality maybe was not the best way to go about it but when it came to Louis, Niall wanted to punch the daylights out of him. He saw red when it came to Louis and he could not control his burning anger.

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@Louis_Stylinson @NiallJHoran NIALL! STOP IT!_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@HarryStylinson I am not apologizing for not including Louis in the Acceptance Speech because clearly I AM NOT in 1D anymore because Louis has executively removed me from it._  


**LIAM @LiamPayneCFC**  
_@NiallJHoran @Louis_Stylinson @HarryStylinson No One Is Removing Anyone From The Band Unless They Themselves Want To Leave._

 **zayn @zaynmalik retweeted**  
**LIAM @LiamPayneCFC**  
_@NiallJHoran @Louis_Stylinson @HarryStylinson No One Is Removing Anyone From The Band Unless They Themselves Want To Leave._

  
LIAM @LiamPayneCFC  
_@NiallJHoran @Louis_Stylinson @HarryStylinson_  
All Of The Rumors, All Of The Fights,  
But We Always Find A Way To Make It Out Alive

Directioners, as a whole, breathed a sigh of relief with Liam’s entry. Louis, Harry nor Niall tweeted anything after that, the fandom, including ZQUAD, collectively breathing in. But they should not have held their breath as Niall, being passive aggressive and all, tweeted a lyric from _History_ :

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_Thought we were going strong?_  
Thought we were holding on?  


And Eleanor was not left behind as she retweeted this Tweet, followed by Liam, and hundreds of thousands of other tweety birds.

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran Tell that to your BFF!_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson I’m talking about the four of us. US ! We aren’t strong & we aren’t holding on but I’d love to. I‘d like to go back to that_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@Louis_Stylinson FUCK OFF LOUIS !!!!_

 **LIAM @LiamPayneCFC**  
_@NiallJHoran @Louis_Stylinson The 4 Of Us Are Strong .We’re Holding On Because We Are The Greatest Team Out There._

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran Me too, Niall! But you’re making it hard to apologize._

 **LIAM @LiamPayneCFC**  
_@NiallJHoran @HarryStylinson @Louis_Stylinson Why Don’t We Go For Drinks? Like We Used To? Talk It All Out?_

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
** _@LiamPayneCFC_ _You think drinks will help this? You think us sitting down will solve anything? Don’t be naïve Liam! There are some things that cannot be fixed._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@Louis_Stylinson GET OVER YOURSELLF! Zayn left on his own accord and U need to be fine with that, you fucker._

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran NIALL!!! STOP IT RIGHT THIS MINUTE!! Liam and I did forgive @zaynmalik for what he did, it’s just Louis. You don’t need to take it out on him for what he feels. If he doesn’t like Zayn, it’s his issue, not yours._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson Not when he insults him when he gets the chance. I defend my friends, always, & if Louis has a problem with my friends he has a problem with ME !_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran Whatever issues you’ve got with my boyfriend then that’s with you and him. But if you insult him then you have a problem with ME._

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _@HarryStylinson UR BF is a dickhead !_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@NiallJHoran First it was Gigi now it’s Louis, why do you hate everyone’s partners? Are you so alone and jealous you can’t be happy that others are in a relationship?_

 **GiGi Hadid retweeted**  
**Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
**_@NiallJHoran First it was Gigi now it’s Louis, why do you hate everyone’s partners? Are you so alone and jealous you can’t be happy that others are in a relationship?_

If Niall pictured the next 10 minutes the a thousand ways he would kill Gigi then sue him. He was guilty, guilty, guilty, and unapologetic for it.

  
Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
_@itsgigihadid :)_

 **Eleanor Calder @EleanorJCalder**  
_@HarryStylinson You were jealous of mine and Louis’ 4-year relationship and you were a nasty leech during the entire time of it wishing you were me Xxx_  


“I fucking love you Eleanor,” Niall smiled at his phone. He dipped his hand inside his bag of chocolate chip cookies, thinking of a response to Harry. What brought the Directioners War to an end, as it was now the number one worldwide trend, was Zayn.

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
**_I quit the band and it feels like I quit YOU four but what I have will remain golden forever. The memories of being with the four of you are what I will take my life through_ _@NiallJHoran @LiamPayneCFC_ _@HarryStylinson @Louis_Stylinson_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson**  
_@zaynmalik But we’ll never be as bright as we were… as we should’ve been._  


No one on Twitter, not even Louis or Niall, came to intervene their conversation. It seemed this was what everyone needed to hear, with Zayn coming clean (yet again), the others needing closure with the shocking event of March 2015. So Twitter held their breathes, once again, reading Zayn and Harry’s tweets like a particularly intense game of tennis.

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@HarryStylinson We will always be bright… if you are with me and I am with you, we will rule the world as we are as our lights will never fade_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@zaynmalik It felt like you forgot us… you just left all this behind and without a word, a warning…_

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@HarryStylinson How could I? I will never let the memory of FIVE years of 5 of us fade because One Direction was ( & is) my light and it will burn to the end of my time._

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@zaynmalik We missed you the next day, the following week, the month after, 9 months later, we still wanted you (even if we were too proud to admit it)._

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@HarryStylinson I know that tomorrow came without me by your side but the One Direction’s light shone through because it was bigger than me, than you, than the FOUR of you. You had the fans and they are your biggest colors and lights._

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@zaynmalik We’ll never be as bright…_

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@HarryStylinson That is true but what we were, what we did, where we were, will NEVER change._

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@zaynmalik Why? When it feels like it did?_

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@HarryStylinson I know because some days stay gold forever (:_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson**  
_@zaynmalik Promise me that you won’t leave this time? We’re a BRIGHTER team now?_  


And one could hear everyone collectively holding their breath, their fingers, toes, stomachs, cross and twist, diligently praying that Harry and Zayn could bury the hatchet, make all of last year be water under the bridge. Fans in Chile, ZQUAD in Namibia, Niall stans in Russia, Larries in Australia, and Directioners all over the globe all held their breath and waited...

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_@HarryStylinson Wouldn’t have it any other way._  


You could hear fans in Canada, ZQUAD in Sweden, Niall stans in Brazil, Larries in India, and Directioners on all corners of the earth all breathing out a sigh of relief, even the other fandoms who were watching the drama with vigour.

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@zaynmalik Promise?_

 **zayn @zaynmalik  
** _@HarryStylinson Promise (:_

 **LIAM @LiamPayneCFC**  
_@zaynmalik @HarryStylinson I’m So Proud Of Both Of You_

 **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
@LiamPayneCFC** _Shut up Li! You’re so embarrassing._

 **zayn Retweeted** _  
_ **Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
@LiamPayneCFC** _Shut up Li! You’re so embarrassing._

  
**~     ~     *     ~     ~**

****

“Is he asleep?” asked Eleanor, talking about Theo, Niall’s nephew.

Niall nodded at her. “Fast asleep.”

“I think it’s devious that you begged Greg to have Theo stay for the weekend just so you couldn’t go to Liam’s party.”

Niall smirked. “Devious or not, Liam bought it.”

“Because you said Denise was in the hospital!”

“Whatever worked,” shrugged Niall. He picked up a Guinness and a leftover of chocolate chip cookies that Zayn had dropped off the other day. “And what’s this that Liam was telling me that you met someone at the party.”

“Oh yes,” she said and sank into the couch with a faraway look in her eyes. “His name is Pep and he’s 40-something. He’s tall, amazing hazel eyes, and he’s the coach of Man City or some club.”

Niall’s eyes bopped out of their sockets and onto the floor. “You’re dating Pep Guardiola?!”

“You know him?” Niall levelled her with a look. “Nevermind. Of course you know because you’re a football fanatic.”

“Isn’t he married?” asked Niall sipping his Guinness.

“Divorced,” she corrected. “As of last year October. And we’re not dating. We just met. Though we’re going on a date next week Sunday.”

It was only Saturday night today. “That’s so far away,” Niall lamented.

“But he’s busy what with being a manager of a big football club and attractive and sexy—”

“Alright, alright. We get it.”

Eleanor swatted the back of his head, him spilling his beer onto his lap, ‘Watch it!’ “You don’t hear me moaning about you whining about Zayn.”

“I don’t whine about Zayn.” Eleanor raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Just a little, maybe.”

“How the fuck did you even fall in love with him?” she asked, the topic of Pep Guardiola over. “One minute you’re too scared to tweet him the next you’re kissing at a house party.”

Niall gave her a small smile. “Nothing makes sense anymore.” Eleanor shifted on the couch and pressed herself to Niall. Niall sighed onto her shoulder, her hand hugging her middle. “I don’t know the start of love, nobody does, but it hits you like a bus. I think I always knew I just ignored it, hid it under my bed and forgot it was there.

“But if had asked me, two months ago, or even last week, what my favourite sound is I would explain Zayn’s brooding Bradford voice. If you asked me what my favourite color is I’d have said honey, and if you asked what made me happy I’d say how I can never stop smiling whenever Zayn’s around. And it is true because for some reason I felt a little more when I would hear him laugh, see his tongue stuck behind his teeth as he laughed—”

“You fell in love with him slowly.”

Niall swallowed the lump in his throat and hid his face in Eleanor’s shoulder. “But he has Gigi, always had, always will even if she’s a fucking bitch of a model. She doesn’t take care of him, she doesn’t care for his health, for his works, for everything that he is, and she doesn’t care. But I would. Oh, how I would carry the world for him, move mountains for him…”

“You have, Nini.” She cups one cheek in her dainty hand. “You got him a new lawyer, a brand new contract where he is now able to design the shoes he’s always wanted for Giuseppe. You got him Malfoy which he always posts Insta photos of. The polaroid camera you gifted him which he takes everywhere with him—I mean, look at our fridge!”

Indeed. Their fridge was filled with polaroid photos of anything that Zayn found interesting, really, and Niall saved every single one of them in a photo album that he hides in the bottom drawer. The others are on the fridge.

“But he’s not mine. And I don’t think he ever will be. I mean, for starters he’s not gay.”

“Oh Nini.”

“Or ever loved a guy.”

“How do you know?”

“We were drunk one time and I asked him and he shook his head. He’s never looked at guys that way,” he huffed. “Always been fucking women that never loved him truly.”

“Perrie loved Zayn.”

He snorted on her neck. “She loved him because he got Little Mix out there, made her band famous and now that they were flying, he didn’t need Zayn anymore.” Niall got off her body and leaned back onto the couch, his head looking at the light blue ceiling of his living room. “He’s going to kill me, you know. Any time he calls me, when he tweets me, texts me, comes over, sleeps on my bed with me, wears my T-shirts, teaches me how to cook, kisses my jaw, hugs me—when he’s with me, he kills me a little because I’ll never have him.”

“Stop, Ni. Okay? Seeing you overthink is stressful and it’s making me sad see you sad. You like Zayn, a lot, but it’s making you less of who you are.”

“He made me _more_ of who I am, if that makes any sense.” Eleanor frowned which answered Niall’s doubts. “He inspires to be a better person. He was the first person who understood me, truly, and he knew when I wanted tea or beer at any given time, he knew how to comfort me and I only told him once in passing, I got better at cooking the basics like rice, chicken, pasta because of him, I drink much more water now than before. He’s such a workaholic that I feel bad when I’ve only written one song for my album in an entire _month_ so I go to the studios often, work harder at my career and at the same time he reminded me that family and friends are a phone call away and should always be called.”

She scratch his scalp with a fond smile on her lips. “M is eternally grateful. You phone her every other day.”

“Zayn just reminded me that as we grow old, so do our parents, and one day I will look up from my phone, after Tweeting Troye,” he attempted to joke and Eleanor smiled, “and Ma won’t be there.”

“That’s a little morbid.”

“Makes sense though,” he shrugged.

“So what happens now?” Eleanor asked and Niall sighed into the couch sadly. “I hate to see you sad because you deserve all the happiness in the world, and M would kill me if she knew you were sad and I was doing nothing about it.”

Niall rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Ma can never kill you. You’re her daughter.”

“How about dating someone? It’ll get your mind off Zayn…”

“I’ve tried.”

“I mean, actually dating someone. Not random hook-ups but wine-and-dine someone. Anyone. How about Chris from Miami?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Or Troye.”

“What?” he gawked. “I can’t go on a _date_ with Troye Sivan! Are you insane?”

“Yes you can,” she said poking around the couch looking for Niall’s phone, “and you need this. What better way to get over—oh here, found it.”

“You were looking for my phone this whole time?” he asked curiously then suspiciously when Eleanor unlocked his phone (he needs to put a passcode, honestly) and went to Twitter. He watched her thumbs type on his phone and he grew increasingly anxious as she smiled impishly. “What are you doing?”

“Done.”

“Done?” He grabbed his phone and oh, there it was, his Tweet to the great, the amazing, the wonderful, the bedazzling Troye Sivan. “‘Hey babe,’” he read the tweet then looked up at her. “Hey babe? What the fuck? He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

“I think Troye, and the entire world, know about your love crush on Troye.”

Niall could not even argue that point because, yes, everyone knew including Troye himself and after the Best Friend Tag video it was official that Niall had a crush on Troye. And ever since the video, Sivall diehards have been on his case. There was one thing that he loved about Sivall diehards and it was their fan arts, manips, the lot.

“He tweeted back!” Niall shrieked.

“Sshh! Theo is sleeping.”

“Who cares?” He relentlessly smacked her hand. “Troye tweeted me!”

 **Troye Sivan @troyesivan**  
_@NiallJHoran hey lost boy!_  


“Holy fuck,” he breathed staring at his phone. “He tweeted me.”

Eleanor smiled in response and laid her head to the back of the couch. She watched him reply to Troye, his cheeks pink. It was a small start, already seeing Niall half-forgetting all about Zayn, but she knew that it would not last. Troye was just a distraction but anything to get a smile on Niall’s face she would do.

“He said he likes my song, _Human_ ,” Niall said, elatedly. “This is surreal!”

Yes, Eleanor would do anything to have a smile on her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen to HISTORY long enough & you suddenly grab tissues and re-watch fetus videos of 1d for no reason *sobs*
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly appreciated (even the bad ones) and hope ye enjoyed this one ☺  
> take care sons !!


	19. SAIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall gets mail.

> **I’ve got intentions of gold with my plans  
>          ~ Echos**

 

 

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_& though U will not wait for me  
I’ll wait for U_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_& 3 words on the tip of my tongue_  
Not to be spoken nor sung  
  


Niall sighed re-reading his Tweets from the _Patient Love_ song by Passenger. He went to his DM where Zayn had sent him a message.  


**zayn:** Who are your tweets about?

 **zayn:** Sounds like you are in love…

 **NIALLER:** HA! Not exactly.

 **zayn:** Is it Troye? You have been tweeting each other a lot lately.

 **NIALLER:** He’s awesome. HE’S QUITE FUNNY TOO !!

 **ZAYN:** You have been sending each other weird piglet videos…

 **NIALLER:** HEY! They’re not weird. They adorable & cute & very, very pink. I didn’t know baby pigs were so PINK.

 **ZAYN:** WEIRD!

 **NIALLER:** How’ve U been? You’ve been silent urself.

 **zayn:** I told my Manager everything about quitting, Versace, the contract...

 **NIALLER:** EVERYTHING?!

 **zayn:** Yeah…can I just say this to you in person? Typing it is too much work.

 **NIALLER:** Alright. Tell me about Ramadhan! All you sent was a text saying, ‘the month of Ramadhan is here!’ with a bunch of confetti emojis.

 **zayn:** aha (: I was too excited when the Imam said it is in two weeks as that is when the moon shall be sighted.

 **NIALLER:** What is Ramadhan?

 **zayn:** Ramadhan is the 9th month in our calendar and it is when the first verses of the Quran were revealed to Prophet Muhammad, +1000 years ago. It is technically ‘the month of Ramadhan’ if you’re talking about the fasting. It is the holiest month for us.

 **NIALLER:** That’s such a long time ago!! So what is the month of Ramadhan all about?

 **zayn:** Well Ramadhan is one of the Five Pillars of Islam and they are: Shahadah (declaration of faith done through recitation), Salat (daily prayers), Zakat (charity), Sawm (fasting) and Hajj (the pilgrimage to Mecca).

 **NIALLER:** Have U been to Mecca?

 **zayn:** We went when I finished my O-levels. It was pretty cool :D I want to go this year, too.

 **NIALLER:** So Ramadhan is one of the Five Pillars.

 **zayn:** Yes, the Sawm.

 **NIALLER:** What happens during Ramadhan?

 **zayn:** We observe fasting during the month of Ramadhan. It is a month to abstain from eating, drinking, smoking and sex but most of all, it is to grow closer to Allah, break bad habits, taste the suffering of those who are poor, and observe self-restraint.

 **zayn:** That is the essence though, self-restraint (:

 **NIALLER:** U don’t eat the entire day right ?

 **zayn:** Yes. We eat at dawn (Suhoor) and after, at sunset, (Iftar) when we break the fast. We break it either with water or milk, and dates (or any food) but preferably dates.

 **NIALLER:** This is all so cool! I don’t think I knew exactly what Ramadhan was.

 **zayn:** It is pretty grand (:

 **NIALLER:** I’m sorry you didn’t really fast during 1D..

 **zayn:** No worries. I could not though because I needed the energy. You need a lot of energy to do what we did in One Direction therefore I could not fast. But now I can & I am happy.

 **NIALLER:** What’s one of the hardest things about Ramadhan?

 **zayn:** For me it will be waking up ahaha

 **NIALLER:** AHAHAHAHA that’ll be hilarious. You waking up before dawn!! That’ll be the day.

 **NIALLER:** How do you know what time to wake up for begin the fast?

 **zayn:** There are scheduled Suhoor and Iftar timings which are more or less the same.

 **NIALLER:** For how long?

 **zayn:** About 30 days.

 **zayn:** Listen, I am at Gigi’s place. Talk later?

 **NIALLER:** Sure. Have a great day Zaynie the Mayo !!

 **zayn:** You too Niall (:  


**~       ~      *      ~      ~**  
  


****

“You came!” Gigi cheered as soon as she opened the door to find her handsome boyfriend standing there. “So glad you could make it!”

Zayn was pulled into her NYC apartment by the wrist and he stumbled in. “You’re having a party?” he questioned, his eyes taking in the balloons, several people and a large towering cake in the middle of her living room.

“We’re celebrating on Bella’s photoshoot with Vogue China. Doniya and Anwar will be here soon and Jawaad said he’ll bring the beer.”

Zayn inhaled, stuffing his hands inside his jacket pockets, and bowed his head. “Can we talk…?”

“Course,” she said, pressing her lips to the shell of his ear. “My room.”

Zayn was practically pulled to his girlfriend’s bedroom. As soon as he closed the door, he was backed up against his, glossy lips smashed onto his. He was caught unawares, kissing her automatically but stopped it as soon as it began.

“Gigi, I need to talk to you,” he said, holding her back.

“Of course,” she said, her tone joyful as ever. “What is it?”

Zayn inhaled once again, his eyes taking in her long pink jacket, mom jeans folded at the ankles and a shirt he gifted her on her birthday in April. He shuts his eyes and he could hear her movement, hesitant and slow, very unlike her if he remembered clearly.

“You’re scaring me Zee, what is it? Is Yaser okay?”

“Yeah, he’s… great,” he responded and joined her on her King sized bed. She circled her hand round his hand and tilted her head to look at him. Zayn clamped down on his jaw and avoided her soft, sweet gaze.

“Ramadhan is coming, two weeks, and part of it i—”

“Oh yeah, you told me. No sex and we would have to put our relationship on pause. But why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t think we should put our relationship on pause…” He finally got the courage to look at her instead of her apartment floor. He saw the wide smile on her face and the crinkles by her eyes. He was confused. This was not—

“We can date during Ramadhan? This is the greatest news ever, baby!”

“I don’t think we should date during Ramadhan,” he corrected her and her hands on his arm stilled. “Or after.”

“What?” she barely uttered the question but it sunk in Zayn’s head and heart. Hearing her voice other than joy and happiness and delight should be illegal, punishable offence really, but he had to do what he brought himself to do. Break it off with his bubbly girlfriend.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said and her hands were gone from his. “Us,” he meekly shrugged his right shoulder.

“Are you finishing with me?”

“I don’t…” _Don’t what?_ he asked himself. _Don’t love her?_ Perhaps but it was much more than that. “Yes, I’m ending things,” he opted to say answering her question.

“So all this bullshit about no sex during Ramadhan was a lie? You used Islam to dump me? Were you going to not date me during Ramadhan and then dump me after?”

“No!” Zayn said hurriedly. “The month of Ramadhan was a true thing. We really would’ve put our relationship on pause. But lately, I’ve been feeling… different.”

“Different?”

“I don’t want to cheat on you, Gigi,” he said looking at her earnestly and her eyebrows rose in surprise. “I felt this before, when I was dating Perrie…” he ducked his head down, not wanting to look at her at the moment, “I know this feeling when I want someone else and not my girlfriend. And I can’t do that to you.” He caught her eye. “I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

“You were going to cheat on me? It’s bloody Ramadhan!”

Zayn ran his fingers through his hair and left them there. Gigi said nothing, instead angling her body away from Zayn and facing forward, where her open closet was staring at the both of them.

“It’s Niall, isn’t it?” she broke the silence. Zayn made no move. “It’s always been him, right?”

Zayn looked up, at the ceiling then the cupboard then at the laundry basket to the far left where he could glance at Gigi through the corner of his eye.

“Something’s changed between us and I can’t figure it out,” Zayn admitted for the first time. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I feel like I’m going crazy.” He turned his body, knee on the bed and looking at the left side of her angular face. “I don’t want to hurt you, Gee.”

“You like him, you Pakistani idiot,” she said after a moment or two of silence.

“Course I like him.”

“No. You like _like_ him. You really, really, really like him,” she said, her voice flat and not musical to Zayn’s ears. Speaking of music, someone turned on the speakers and it was seeping through her bedroom walls, Ed Sheeran of all the people playing. “What does it feel like when you’re around him?”

Zayn started. He stared at the side of her profile, his jaw hanging and he continued even after Gigi arched her neck to look back at him. He ducked down, his hair falling over his forehead. He made no attempt to speak nor move when her slender fingers carded their way through his hair, pushing it back but it flopped back down.

“He’s… he’s my bridge.”

“Bridge?” she asked. He looked her in the eye and breathed in, ignoring the sting behind his eyes.

“You know how when it’s raining heavily outside, so bad you have to find shelter. You hide under the bridge until the storm clears and then you can finally step out from under the bridge… Niall’s my bridge and he has been for a long time.”

He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. He was absolutely not going to cry in front of his girlfriend. Or _ex_ -girlfriend.

“I know.”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“I didn’t know what exactly Niall was to you, but you’ve described it perfectly.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the reason why you trust him. Even if you can’t trust me,” she said under her breath. “He makes you laugh, he gets you to talk, like actually talk because Heaven knows you don’t, he knows you so much more than I ever could, even if I tried I think it’d take me years to get you to open up and for him it took a few weeks.” She groaned. “I can’t even listen to your music without wanting to stab my eye out but he’ll do it for days. And you know what the saddest part is?”

“What?”

“I hate him,” she said and Zayn could barely breathe out through his lips, his mouth feeling as dry as a hot summer’s day. “I hate him so fucking much. I hate his fucking guts. I hate him for figuring you out, for being there for you, for being a phone call away, for making you smile without taking off his clothes, for worming his way into your heart when it took me months.” She stopped, her anger rolling down her cheeks. “I hate him. So. Much. Zayn. I hate him because I look at you the way _you_ look at him.”

That left Zayn speechless. His eyes widened in astonishment and he pulled back slowly, realization setting down, if the tears rolling down her puffy cheeks were not a factor then the words were. She stood up then, as if wanting to ran out of the room, and paced up and down, wiping her cheeks furiously.

“What is about him that you like? Huh?” She was shouting. “Tell me Zayn! I bet you fucked him! Is that is? He fucks better than me?” She was crying, too. “You’re the love of my life but apparently the words whispered on pillows, showers, hand holding and the soft hips, the kisses and promises meant nothing because I was telling them to someone who was falling out of love.”

Zayn’s mouth moved about useleslly, words dying on his tongue. His mind was reeling, she was falling for him as he was falling out of love? He surely was not falling out of love… it could not be. He was not falling… for… Niall… was he? It could not be…

“Fucking great!” she cursed, taking his silence as agreement to her words.

“I felt those things just. Not anymore,” he mumbled, now standing too.

“Your sister is coming, cousin, fucking cousins,” she bitterly laughed. “What am I supposed to do? To say?”

Zayn remained quiet, not knowing the answer and also giving her the space to let it all sink in. And for himself, too.

“I don’t want you to walk out.”

“I have to.”

“Don’t need to.” She walked to him slowly. Her finger traced the side of his scruff face, down his jawline, then with her thumb, ran it across his bottom lip. “One last time.”

Zayn hesitated and Gigi mistook that for an affirmative. She brushed her lips, hesitant and unsure, against his. She pulled back, their eyes locking with each other, brown on hazel, and he smashed his lips on hers for a last time.  


**~       ~       *      ~       ~**

“Call me every hour!”

“I’m on a date,” Eleanor grumbled as she put on her earrings. “I can’t keep calling you every hour.”

“Alright. Text me,” he compromised.

“Absolutely not.” She straightened her green dress with her palms and inhaled nervously. “How do I look?”

“Ravishing,” he smiled at her. He kissed her cheek. “Guardiola better realize how lucky he is to take you on a date.”

“Thanks Nini,” she giggled. “He said he’s taking me to the fanfare, wonder if that’s a good idea. Like did I overdress?”

“Even if you underdressed, you’d outshine everyone at the venue,” he said, winking at her. “But I’m serious, keep me updated.”

“I know,” she told him with the same level of seriousness. “You get worried sometimes, Nini. Now you know how M feels about you when she worries.”

“She’s my Ma, she can worry. You’re my sister and you’re going on a date with a nice guy who’s hopefully not going to be an ass like the last one.”

Eleanor snorted, half-laughing to herself. “I need to move on from Louis, it’s been years for crying out loud.” They held each other’s gazes until Eleanor’s eyes spotted the clock behind Niall. “Shit! I’m going to be late.”

“I still don’t know why,” Niall said as he followed he to the front door, “you didn’t let him pick you up.”

“I want to show him that his status doesn’t scare me.”

“By borrowing my car?” he teased and Eleanor smacked the back of his head with her tiny clutch bag. He opened the door for her and she walked outside. “Don’t have too much fun.”

“Such an idiot. Don’t wait up.”

“Oh, I’m waiting up!”

Eleanor rolled her eyes, through playfully. “Call me if he picks up?”

Niall nodded. He kissed her cheek goodbye, slapped her ass as she walked out the door, and waited until she was driving off to her date with the Manager of Manchester City FC.

Zayn had technically fallen off the map about a week ago. According to tabloids, update accounts, gossip, and several of Zayn’s cousins, Zigi was over. Officially. Niall was shocked to the bone with the news, then opened the champagne that Eleanor had been waiting to open for days but he thought it was about time to open it. The scumbag of a bitch was gone, Niall was beyond elated.

Of course to the boyfriend in question, Niall sent an array of texts and messages asking how he was feeling. He got one-word replies of, _Okay_ , _Fine_ and Niall took Zayn’s word for it. Three days after the news, which apparently no one was moving on from (Niall groaned, still popping champagne bottles), he had already received angry messages from Gigi, and her sister and brother, for being, well, to put it nicely, a homewrecker. That was not all.

Zayn, as was believed, had not travelled back home to Bradford. Nor his home in L.A. See, Zayn did not have a home in London what with his break up with his ex-fiancée, Perrie, and selling the house and never getting round to buying a new one. Doniya and Jawaad had flown to his L.A. home by the end of the week to check-up on their brother only for them to be told by his neighbour that Zayn had not been there for a week.

It was yesterday that Niall received a text message from Jawaad informing him just that with another message asking if _he_ knew where Zayn was. If Niall was being honest, he thought Zayn was in Bradford. Tricia also called him, asking if Zayn was at his place which he said, no, he was not and had not seen him since Miami.

Niall began growing worried when Zayn was unusually quiet. His goodnight and good morning texts went answered, his Snaps were not viewed, his Tweets, even Instagram photos, were not being seen by Zayn. He tried calling but Zayn would never answer.

Until this morning when he received an odd text from him:

_Did you get my CD?_

Niall stared at the text just as he was sitting on the toilet, pooping. He replied back, _no. what CD?_ but never received a reply.

Four days after Eleanor’s date with Pep Guardiola (“He’s such a gentleman! We’re meeting this Sunday again!”), he received a brown box with his address on the top.

“What is it?” Eleanor questioned, donned in her yellow PJs and hair tied up in a bun.

“Came this morning.”

“Open it. Hope it’s not a bomb.”

“A bomb? Really, El?”

She simply shrugged as he cut it open with a knife. Inside was a lot of bubble wrap and inside the clear bubble wrap was a CD case. He held it in his hand as he read what was written on it: _Everything I could never say out loud_ in Zayn’s cursive handwriting.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, staring at the words on a cd.

“Well, c’mon! Let’s put in the radio and hear what is says. Maybe it’s some clue, like a treasure hunt to gold.”

Niall snapped out of his reverie. “Gold?” he questioned, following her to where she was heading. Eleanor sat on her bed, bringing her pink radio that Greg bought for her as a present last year in front of her. She made grabby grabby with her hands and Niall handed her the CD case and she put it in and pressed Play.

_Hey Niall. It’s Zayn. Zayn Malik. Though I think that was obvious._

Eleanor gasped and Niall sat properly on top of her bed. His eyes widened as the CD played and Zayn’s voice rang through her purple bedroom.

 _I promise I’m not trying to be like that girl in_ 13 Reasons Why _but I couldn’t tell you this in person just like I couldn’t tell you about my wolf tattoo and Gigi that time in Milan._

Eleanor looked at him quizzically which he shook his hand at her and she narrowed her eyes. There was silence. Not silence but Zayn was not speaking. In the background, he could hear swishing sounds, and if he strained his ears, he could hear laughter in the background, as if it was a little further than wherever Zayn was.

_I was not myself for months and nobody noticed. I’d often find myself lost in others. Id’ be sitting with Mike while we camped during the writing of my album and I’d be staring at a leaf, watching a caterpillar walk across it. I’d be sitting with Gigi for lunch but I’d looking at people sitting behind her and really, really watch them. When I’d be in my L.A. home, I’d spend hours smoking shisha on the balcony, watching the cars and people pass by until the sky turns black and I’d wonder where the time had gone._

Niall could hear swishing sounds as Zayn talked and it sounded like beach waves. Was Zayn at the beach? He left to go to a… beach?

_All those times I’d lose myself, I would constantly wish I was somewhere else, doing something else. I’d look right, left, and never liked what I saw—and I didn’t know it, that’s the problem. I didn’t know I didn’t want any of it._

_I only told you that I was alone after March 2015. I never told you about the long nights. Nights when I’d enter my new L.A. penthouse, barely had any furniture, just boxes of pizza and bottles of Jameson lying around. I’d set the fire place and…_

Zayn’s voice was shaky, and he was speaking slower than when he first began. His mind was still wondering what the CD was about, how he managed to record it all and send it to him and how did Niall _not see this coming?_ He was his best friend, after all.  

_Everything was wrong. With me. The world. My life. I’d quietly cry myself to sleep… I don’t know why since I was alone and no one would hear me. I’d stare at my hands for long minutes, my tears rolling down my cheeks and then stuffing my mouth with my fist because I couldn’t stand to hear my own voice cracking. I truly learnt what it was to be alone and lonely at the same time._

_I thought this was my life. This is what I deserve. I deserve everything that comes to me from now. From March until the start of this year I lost myself. I wore a mask and no one noticed. I made music, like everybody asked, I was a good boyfriend, like everybody asked, I was a good son, like everybody asked. I was what everybody asked and I did it because after what I pulled in March who was I to say no? What right did I have?_

Niall let his head fall onto his fists, shutting his eyes. All this time, all this time he thought Zayn was happy because he quit the band, to make “real music”, with the interviews he did, the tweets, the—all of it. He thought Zayn was happy when really he was not. He turned into a puppet, let others pull the strings and he followed by and because what, he thought he deserved it? He felt so low that he took everything that was thrown his way without a fight and it pained him.

_When I was lied to I took it. When I was ridiculed, I accepted. When everybody sneered and gossip and whispered and stole I did not. Say. A. Word. At night, in the safety of my room in L.A. I couldn’t take my mask off. It was plastered to my skin and this is who I became. I told myself, everything will be fine, just hold on. But it wasn’t. I looked around me and no one was by my side. No one got me. No one understood me._

_The world hated me, Niall._

Niall cursed under his breath. Niall saying his name, in his broken voice, was not something he wanted to hear, not something he wanted to hear from Zayn but here he was hearing it and living it. There was a pause in the audio, the sound of waves, distant laughter and… was that a meow from a cat?

“Did you hear that?”

Eleanor nodded, eyes on the radio. “It sounded like it was Malfoy. Or some cat.”

_Maura was right about the lights. That we have a million lights in us and they die as we live on. I was dim, the millions of lights I was born with blowing out. I was fading out before everyone’s eyes and no one noticed. No one understood. No one cared._

“You’re wrong,” he whispered, as if hoping his voice would reach to Zayn wherever he was.

 _I thought we all had second chances._ He paused for a moment, Niall wondering if he had finished talking, if his eyes caught on something that distracted him. _I mean, if 11:11 comes twice then why don’t I get a second shot? I wanted a second chance to prove myself; prove to myself that this was my life, I could do better than I was when I was in One Direction. That I could do better in my relationships, If I could have another chance, I’d make my family happier._

_So I slept. All the time. Any time, every time I was asleep. If I wasn’t wearing my mask, it was me sleeping. My life was falling apart when I was awake, so why not sleep? And the world faded away beneath my feet when sleep came… and I hoped it would last longer. Always. Last. Longer. I was always tired, anyway, and you making me sleep, Niall, was like the first sip to someone who’s been in the desert for years. I loved you immensely for that._

_And suddenly I didn’t want to sleep anymore. I wanted to be awake, always._

_I wanted to catch you drinking your third Guinness. To see you bicker with Eleanor about watching_ The Fault in Our Stars _for the fifth time that week. To witness you bathe your nephew and sneak him an extra Snickers bar when you thought Denise was not looking. I wanted to hear you go on and on about how that old man in_ Harry Potter _was a dick to Harry, about why Draco Malfoy was the one character with whom you relate to the most and yes, even when you made fun of me for being in Ravenclaw._

Niall smiled, memories jumping around in his brains and the various times and events Zayn listed, remembering them clearly as if they all happened yesterday.

_I wanted to be awake when you called me drunk and saying to the cute guy you met at a party that I was your milkman. I wanted to be awake when you wanted to buy a new guitar for your collection, to driving down the highway chasing the sunset and then stopping at the gas station because you want chocolate chip cookies, and even going to Victoria’s Secret and buying thousands of dollars’ worth of underwear, and whatever, for Calder. All of it, I wanted to be there._

_I stopped sleeping whenever we were together because I’d catch up on it either on the plane or later but really it was because you—one by one the faded lights in me were lit. One by one, they lit up and how could they not? You’ve got sunshine running in your veins, Niall, and I always felt warm around you. I couldn’t replace that warmth for a couple of hours of sleep._

_My point is, I cared about the little things. The things which I told you were unimportant but you wacked me in the head and said fresh pressed sheets are something to be excited about. And so are Sunday barbecues with your cousins, so is finding an extra Guinness in the fridge which you thought you had drank the night before. About listening to Troye Sivan and feeling like it’s the first time you’re listening to it, feels just as good. You taught me that the little things in life can bring you happiness even when the bigger stuff like signing to a new recording company cannot. Mine is driving._

Niall heard the shyness in his voice, as if admitting it he was afraid of what Niall would think of him now that he knew what made Zayn light up.

_The month of Ramadhan is here. It started yesterday and I promised myself that I’d start taking care of myself. Lately, it’s felt as if I’ve been trying to catch a train that I’m never on time for. You asked me, back in Miami, ‘What about me?’ and I shouted back, ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Well I think it does. You taught me that I matter. And I should stop feeling the guilt that’s been there since March last year._

_I’m somewhere, on a beach, at a coast, somewhere. Can’t say. Mom doesn’t know. My sisters. Dad. Jawaad. Hadiyya. All of them don’t, even Gigi. I need some time alone, by myself, to travel and figure out the fuck is going._

_I love you Niall, I hope you know that. And Calder, too. Hope her date with Pep was awesome. Wasn’t it last week Sunday? I’ll see you after Ramadhan._

“Where do you think he went?” Eleanor wondered out loud.

Niall shrugged, eyes glued to the radio. He was wondering why Zayn left, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... what happens now? zigi over? zayn is off somewhere? what about niall ?! though finally they're over jeez
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS highly welcomed, even the random ones or something weird you read ☺   
> take care sons !!


	20. Beautiful Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam's heart drops as Niall pays Zayn's old house a visit.

****

> **I’m lonely. And I’m lonely in some horrible deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic  
>      ~ Augusten Burroughs **

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _Prom is not the “best night of your life” but go anyways #MotivationWithNiall_

Niall craved Zayn.

He knew it, acknowledge it, accepted it, went through the whole process of Acceptance and in conclusion he craved Zayn. However, there was a difference between accepting and well, the other part. The part where it did not hurt any less.

Zayn was a thousand kilometers away, or even a kilometer away, who knew, and he missed him. It was only Day 9 of the month of Ramadhan and Niall was not doing too well, in terms of missing Zayn. He already went through every single Zayn update account, downloaded all the recent photos, videos, he took a screenshot of the one Tweet Zayn made the first day of Ramadhan ( _Ramadhan Kareem everyone!_ ) and has never been online ever since.

Since tweeting did not work, he tried texting. And calling. And on Instagram. Snapchat. Whatever mode of communication except letters. Well, he did send a postcard yesterday to his L.A. address, so there was that. Nevertheless, nothing worked. Zayn was radio silence. Not even his family was that helpful. His cousins all said this was normal and not to freak out. Hadiyya said everyone celebrates fasting in their own way (whatever that meant!), Tricia called to say Zayn prefers to celebrate the month by himself and he stopped reaching out after that. The Maliks basically were softly telling him to get lost.

See, Niall always thought words, or fists and black eyes and broken ribs hurt but no, that did not hurt at all compared to the silence from Zayn. The deafening silence will be the death of him.

So Niall was having a couple of bad days lately, and it felt like everyone was busy, suddenly. Eleanor was off to the East part of the globe, Liam was training, Harry was not talking to him, Dio was beginning his PhD program at Keele University, Willie was off somewhere in Belfast with his wife, his Ma was handling an important IP case… even Theo was busy.

Where did Niall go to wallow? Twitter.

Fans were happy Niall was constantly online, unlike before (not that he was never online)(just not as much as right now). He would tweet nonsense (mainly football and golf, really), follow literally 50 fans per day, tweeting Kalani Pe’a and Andy González and having a right laugh (the Three Musketeers as the fandom came to call the three of them), voting for artists for upcoming Award shows just because, and well, hanging out on Twitter. And Snapchat. He was voted Media Artist, after all. That was not the new thing Niall did. He created a trend, _#MotivationWithNiall_ , where he tweeted some life hacks that for some odd reason, and no logic, made him miss Zayn less.

The fans loved it, so… who was he to stop? Plus it was interesting, these facts, and he often found himself agreeing with some, others he was surprised, and others he thought were “motivational” enough.

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _Don’t drink & drive, UR dog won’t understand why U never came home #MotivationWithNiall_

After following the 54th fan for the day, he closed the Twitter app seeing as, you know, he has been on it since noon and it was fast approaching five o’clock. He ordered from his favorite KFC restaurant and an hour later he was sat in front of the TV with his second Guinness of the hour. The finale of _Shameless_ was playing but his mind was far and beyond his living room.

Since the first day of Ramadhan he has been playing Zayn’s CD, one play each day, the words running round and round in his head like a broken record.

He got up, searching for his phone around the house. He found it in the kitchen, as he had been warming KFC chicken, and dialed Zayn’s number. It rang, and rang, and continued ringing until the voicemail lady spoke. He called again and it went to voicemail after 15 seconds. And he called again. Three more times. And once more. Four more times. And once more, just in case.

He did not pick up. He never picked up.

“Zayn,” he wailed, sliding down the kitchen wall. He dialed Zayn’s number out of memory, each digit pressed ringing into the background noise of _Shameless_ playing in the other room. “Please have mercy.” The phone rang, the beeps as loud as the dread in his heart knowing Zayn will not pick up.

He will not.

He never did.

He hit the back of his head against the wall and pressed the heels of his hand to his wet eyes. He was so pathetic, he thought as he hiccupped, so pathetic that he was crying for his best friend that he was _so gone_ for and he felt like having a friend around, or someone to hug, or really a whole bottle of Vodka.

A light bulb appeared above his head, his cries halting and tears stopping their waterfall. He had a bottle of Vodka. Well, he had an _almost_ bottle of Vodka. He had wine. Lots and lots of different wines such as sweet rose, zinfandel, cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay… maybe he should start with chardonnay. Beyoncé did sing about it, after all.

Two, three hours later, he was drunk on chardonnay and Beyoncé’s Lemonade and half-empty bucket of chicken. And that was how the night blacked out for Niall.

 

**~           ~         *          ~         ~**

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _U were beautiful before he told U so #MotivationWithNiall_

Niall did not enjoy waking up in his front lawn and rudely awoken by the sprinklers. Damn Eleanor for leaving them on automatic. He should change that… when he figured out where the button was. Or if there even was a button.

He trotted back to the house, soaking wet and a blinding headache, dry throat, and generally wanting to turn off the sun. Hours later, after a wonderful sleep and oil-soaked early lunch, he popped in _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. If anything was going wrong, or simply not right, in Niall’s life, Harry Potter was always there to boost him right back. Currently, he wanted to see a large dosage of his movie boyfriend, the magnificent, the majestic Draco Malfoy.

Except his mind drifted off. It had been drifting during the movie but enough was enough. He was not going to spend the rest of Ramadhan thinking about Zayn. Day-dreaming about his long eyelashes, his chiseled cheekbones, his mellow voice, echoing his voice over and over in his head. Recalling how his tongue sticks to the back of his teeth while he laughs, or the crinkles by his eyes, or his two front teeth larger than the rest of his white set.

Niall stood up abruptly. No! Enough was enough. Niall was drowning, he knew it, and it was Day 17 of Ramadhan, almost halfway through the fasting, and he was still, well, waiting for Zayn, to put it simply.

His Ma always said, _better swim before ye drown, Chicken_ , and Niall needed to swim before he could drown further. He needed to keep himself busy, so busy he had no time for Zayn. Had no time to dream of how he always smelt like mint, how his body relaxed into jelly whenever he smoked his Dunhill cigarettes, how suave and cool he appeared when driving his revving Audi (or Bentley if he was in the UK) and had one hand on the steering wheel, the other—

“Stop!” he cried out loud. He was to stop thinking of Zayn and this, clearly, was not working. He walked over to his stereo and played the first song off Troye’s album. One way to drown his thoughts was to play loud music. Except… Troye was not working. He increased the volume, turning it up, higher and higher he was sure the neighbours would come calling.

He stopped _WILD_ midway and selected Lana Del Rey’s album Born To Die, his favorite. He cranked the volume to 150, the highest and his entire house was swimming with her mellow, rich voice singing _Lolita_. Nevermind he could not hear the words per se but he was not hearing Zayn’s voice so he counted it as a win.

Next, he figured he should do what he was best at: cleaning. And the one place that truly needed to be cleaned was the attic. Climbing the ladder up to his dusty, dark attic, he wondered when the last time he was up here. There were piles of brown boxes to the far left in the corner, directly in front of him were crates piled on more crates, a broken bicycle hanging from the ceiling (he was pretty sure it was not his), the window covered in a thick layer of dust he physically shivered at the sight of it. Then squealed when he saw a grey, furry _thing_ scurry across the wooden floor.

“Need to get my shit in order,” he told himself when he was back on the second floor of his house, away from the _thing_.

For the next one week, cleaning is all Niall did to his house. He began with the top, the dreaded attic which had a ‘small family of rats’ according to the company that Niall hired. After his attic was declared safe, he unloaded the boxes finding what was in them. Whatever he did not need he put it back in the box and pushed them against the wall. Later, so as not to make the attic look older that it looked, he bought three green, Japanese room dividers and stacked them in front of the boxes.

After he was done cleaning (and re-decorating) his room, the bathrooms, the kitchen, he stopped before the living room. He cannot clean the living room as such seeing as he lived here with Eleanor and would likely need her input, so he opted for just cleaning.

“The guest house!” he exclaimed as he was dusting above the fireplace. Of course, the guest house. Behind his house, to the far left of the pool, was the guestroom that he barely entered anymore, it was mostly Eleanor and her friends who used it, really, and each time Eleanor would tell him to decorate it, clean it out, make it look like a smaller version of a house. Or a tree house. Something cool, edgy and fun.

Standing in the middle of the guest house with nothing but sleeping bags, three crates of empty bottles, piles of jackets, shoes, toys, old TV, broken engine… it was starting to feel as if he was standing in the middle of a garage sale. Except he would actually sell nothing… He took a deep breath in, then a slow one out. He was going to keep busy renovating his guest house. It would be his tiny project.

**~          ~        *        ~        ~**

****

**Nialler @NiallJHoran  
** _Don’t tell UR Ma U hate her; U will regret it #MotivationWithNiall_

“When is Eleanor coming back?” asked Niall’s Ma.

“She left on Tuesday,” Niall responded, “so she’ll be back in about a week, week and a half.”

During Niall’s Keep Busy To Forget About Zayn, he invited his Ma over, along with her fiancé Chris Gallagher, to spend a couple of days. In truth, Niall was feeling lonely, what with everyone’s lives busy, busy, busy and he felt as if he was the only one who was, well, not busy. And as he was speaking to Eóghan on the phone, who was on a break from his job, he realized that it was not just Zayn he missed but people in general.

See, for as long as Niall was alive, he was surrounded by people, by company that he never found himself alone. As a kid, the crowd followed him. As a young boy, everybody wanted to be around Niall for his energetic, youthful vibe. As a teenager, wherever Niall was there was noise accompanied a guitar which he taught himself. As part of the band, Niall was always with someone, if not his four brothers, then Mark J, if not him, then the bus crew, if not then 5 Seconds of Summer, if not then Lou Teasdale, if not then his cousins that he would bring along the tours, if not any of them then he would always find someone. Anyone.

But now, what with Zayn disappearing off during Ramadhan, everyone suddenly busy with their lives, his paused friendship with Harry, Liam training 24/7 with Chelsea, his cousin’s doing who knows what, his friends getting on with their lives, the others living too far (Kalani Pe’a and Andy González), it seemed like Niall was never on his own and for the first time he was. He truly was and it was very, very unsettling.

His thoughts were muddled to a halt with someone whacking the back of his head. “Ow! Ma that hurt.”

“Ye were lost in t’at brain of yers again,” she said, sounding a little stern.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “What are you making anyway?”

“Soup.”

“Soup?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I don’t know. Seems weird to be making soup in the afternoon,” he commented.

As his Ma was adding spices to the large, red cooking pot, he chuckled because it looked as if she was Professor Snape making a difficult potion that probably Draco would nail it. But he was not at Hogwarts, Draco was not his boyfriend, and he was still craving Zayn’s presence.

“Ma?” he spoke up. His Ma turned on the spot and nodded slowly at him, gesturing for him to continue. “Did you ever,” he looked down at where his nail was tearing the skin on his thumbnail, “get scared that Bobby would leave? Before he _did_ leave?”

Ma tilted her head thoughtfully and her face looked soft but her eyes were sharp. She was looking intently at her son, as if she was unmasking him with her eyes and Niall sighed.

“Stop that, Ma. This is not one of those deeper than it is questions. It’s plain simple.”

“Nothin’s plain, Chicken.”

“Well?” he encouraged before they went down _that_ debate of life being plain, again.

She turned back to her simmering soup, as she answered him, “If people want t’ leave, ye hold open the door for t’em.”

 Niall blinked at his Ma’s back. What? Maura was turning round on the spot, setting the fire on low heat and walking over to the marble countertop and sitting on the stool.  Niall watched her silently, his nail scratching on the skin by his thumbnail nervously he was sure the skin would rip and he would bleed eventually. If he kept at it.

“Is t’is ‘bout yer Arab boy?” she enquired.

Niall had corrected his Ma that Zayn was not Arab, not one bit, but was in fact from Pakistan and _did_ speak Arabic but he was also half-British and of Irish descent, thanks to his mother, but it was as if his mother became suddenly deaf and continued addressing Zayn as the ‘Arab boy.’

“No,” he scoffed but it came off as a huff of laughter and a stammer. “It’s not about anyone. I was just thinking about you and Chris and how you’re—why are you smiling?”

“Ye’ve ne’er been able t’ lie t’ me,” she said, her eyes twinkling at him. “Ye and yer brother will ne’er be able t’ lie to me. So, let’s do this again…”

Niall sighed, giving in to his Ma. “Yes, it’s about the Arab boy.”

She nodded and her eyes were sharp once more. “Bobby wanted t’ leave ‘n’ when someone decides they want t’ leave, ye let them. We have such little time left on this earth t’ hold someone from walking out the door.” Niall slumps into his stool, elbows on the countertop. “Did the Arab boy say why he left?”

“Don’t know.”

“He didn’t leave a note? Text? Call? Anythin’?”

“He left a CD and said a bunch of things about regret and work and he was off somewhere on an island to spend Ramadhan and he’ll be back after the days are over. Sixteen days left.”

Maura quirked a pale eyebrow. “Ye’ve been countin’, I see?”

“Well, Ma, did Bobby leaving ever scare you?”

“Nini, ye’ve got to let it go. Let that day when ye walked t’rough the house ‘n’ yer Da was leavin’, let go of the bad memories o’ the days after when he wasn’t there, let go o’ the feelin’ of.” His Ma exhaled through her lips. “Let go, Nini. Please.”

“I tell everyone I let go of people leaving, I’m cool with knowing that sometimes I’m not the reason that people leave, but it’s easier to say… than do.”

“I know, Chicken.”

“Maybe If I…”

His Ma reached out and took his hand in hers. “Wouldn’t have worked.”

“Maybe if I convinced him… told him… loved him more….”

She wrapped her arm around her baby’s shoulder. “No, Nini. It wouldn’t have worked.”

“Why?”

“The minute ye are tryin’ t’ convince someone t’ stay, they’ve already left, in the mind, spirit and soul; all that is left is the body.”

“I hate him,” he said, his voice strong and bitter. “I hate him.” His voice cracked and he accepted his Ma’s pull to her warm embrace. “I hate him so much. And now that Zayn left, it’s bringing it all back: Holly, Bobby, my friends along the years, everyone came as a flashback to me, leaving me behind and thinking it was my fault, I made them leave.”

“He didn’t leave because o’ ye,” his Ma, her hand on his arm. Niall did not know who she was talking about – Zayn or Bobby – but it suited either or. Maura cupped her son’s face in her frail hands, her eyes searching endlessly in her baby’s glistening blue eyes, haunted by past ghosts.

“Ye can spend yer whole life sayin’ goodbye t’ someone, perhaps the moment that was right was not enough t’ say the words either because one was leavin’ in a hurry, the train was leavin’ or it was yer call t’ get on yer plane.” She pushed the hair down against his temple, flattening it and a small smile was on her thin lips. “Others walk out the door, sneakin’ out, ‘n’ they ran ‘n,’” she bowed her head and Niall was left staring at the crown of her head.

“M’sorry, Ma, didn’t mean to make you sad,” he found himself apologizing, his voice low. “Didn’t mean…” He trailed off when his Ma was shaking her head at him. Suddenly she stood up straight and her eyes were sharp again. “What?” he asked after silence stretched between them.

“Ye love ‘im?”

He was confused. “Love who?”

“The Arab boy.”

“Course I do.” He gulped, pretty sure he was breathing loud and it was medically unhealthy. But he was doing it anyway.

She narrowed her eyes at her son. “Not what I meant. Ye love him, more than a friend, more than the way ye love El, ye love ‘im like a lover.”

His mind raced with the words, _deny deny deny_ , so his lips denied. “No. Not like—course not, Ma—that’s a silly—I love him, sure but—”

“Niall.”

He halted his _deny deny deny_ mantra and swallowed the rocks and pebbles stuck in his throat.

“Do ye love Zayn?”

Of all the times his Ma could have gotten Zayn’s name right, of _all the times_ , it had to be now. Now is when Maura decided to know his name. His real name. His eyes navigated his kitchen, the shiny marble countertop, the juice mixer, the low burning heat below the cooking pot of soup (which was making him feel as if he had not eaten in days), the cupboard full of new plates he went shopping for last week— _whack!_

“Ouch!” Niall groaned.

“Zoned out again.”

“Sorry.”

“Ar’ ye in love with t’e Arab boy?”

And they were back to square one, it seemed.

Niall’s lips opened and shut uselessly like a fish out of water. His brain was melting inside his skull as he stared openly at his Ma, feeling as if his throat was closing up the more he stared up at his Ma, feeling—feeling as if he was drowning, if he was being honest.

“Nini?... Ni?... Niall?”

 Niall mumbled his words.

“What was that?”

Niall said his words louder but his Ma still could not hear him.

“I’m in love with Zayn Javadd Malik,” he yelled and slammed his left hand on the countertop. His face scrunched in a way before a tear rolled down their cheek. “I’m in love with him and I don’t know what to do anymore without him here.”

His Ma remained quiet.

Tears pooled around Niall’s blue eyes. “I miss him. In truth, I understand why he left, I know the reasons, but it’s ironic because he left when he wanted to be found. He wanted someone to notice him, even if they don’t understand, to stand by his side but he left and I can’t do that when he’s on a beach somewhere.”

His Ma broke their silence after Niall’s confession by whacking the back of her hand on his forehead.

“What’s with hitting me today?!” he exclaimed as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Why didn’t ye tell me?”

“I didn’t know until recently that I was bisexual and—”

“Not that, ye big Irish idiot. Why didn’t ye tell me ye love ‘im?”

Niall blinked. “You don’t mind that I’m, well, this.” He made a vague gesture at himself.

“T’is?” she questioned. “What’s t’is? Me little light who cannot keep quiet for five minutes? Me son who taught ‘imself to play the guitar? Me Chicken who brings the sunshine with ‘im wherever he goes? Me son who cares so much, loves deeply, carries lots of weight that he ends up getting lost in his own head? I don’t mind that yer my son.”

“That’s not what I meant, Ma,” he said, his voice cracking and he blinked looking away from his Ma’s eyes.

“I don’t care who ye love, Chicken,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “Ye could bring home a goat ‘n’ I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Niall laughed despite himself, and ended up coughing and stained his cheeks wet. “Whoever ye love, whoever ye choose t’ keep in yer heart, I will always love ye because yer me baby Chicken.”

“You don’t care I like boys, too?”

“O’ course not. Did ye think otherwise?”

Niall shrugged in response. Maura opened her mouth to speak but the doorbell rang. Niall quickly wiped his cheeks clean with the back of his hand as he walked to the front door. It was Chris. He was back and it was clearly time for lunch since his stomach growled loudly and Chris patted his back, _it’s lunch, bud,_ and together they drank (or was it ate?) soup.

The following day, Maura woke Niall up bright and early. Now, Niall was a morning person, by 7 o’clock, he was up but this day Maura woke him when the sky was just about changing its colors. And why? They would be gardening.

**~           ~           *          ~          ~**

****

 

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_Stop comparing URself to others; that will never do any good #MotivationWithNiall_  


“I still think this is a dumb idea!” Liam voiced his distaste in Niall’s ‘incredible and plausible’ plan.

“Don’t be a wimp, Payno,” he said. With one hand on the steering wheel, the other was navigating his audio system, finding a song to commemorate this occasion.

Niall, after gardening the entire day with his mother, and part of it was spent video chatting with Eleanor over whether to grow roses or dandelions, called Liam asking if he was free, to which he said, _Course, Nialler_ , and now Liam was starting to regret it.

See, Niall was quite upset over Zayn’s sudden disappearance and he thought, naïvely, that gardening and binge watching Harry Potter and renovating the guest house would help him keep busy but it made him antsy. Also, he wanted to break things! Anything, really. His anger needed an outlet and what better place than Zayn’s modern house where he had lived in it with his ex-fiancée?

“What if we get caught?” Liam cautioned. “Pretty sure Zayn still has his security up.”

“I know the password.”

“Of course you do,” Liam mumbled under his breath. He silently watched Niall press buttons and the speakers began playing _Never Give Up_ by Sia and himself, a soundtrack to the movie _Lion_.

“Perfect song, don’t cha think?”

“No!”

Niall came to a halt for a red light. “I’ve thought of this plan. We’re going to break his windows, gate, burn the stupid bar he has behind his house, call the fire brigade and escape.”

“Calling the fire brigade will get us into shit! Just because we’re celebrities now, doesn’t mean we can get away with vandalism!”

“We’re going to empty his pool as well,” laughed Niall manically, ignoring his comment. “He’ll never be able to swim.”

Liam groaned into his seat. He pressed the soles of his trainers to the dashboard as Niall stepped on the accelerator heading to Zayn’s old house. He pulled his hoodie over his head and looked outside the window as Niall belched out the chorus of _Never Give Up_.

If only Liam had lied that he was actually busy (he was playing Black Ops with Andy and his other two pals and he was badly losing) and had not entered the car before asking where they were heading he would not be here. But Niall was his friend, brother, and he did not want to be that asshole that was not there for his friends when they, to use Niall’s words, ‘fuck shit up!’ and quite frankly, did not want to do it alone.

“That’s not all, Payno,” yelled Niall happily, “we’re going to be rebellious tonight!”

“Oh boy,” Liam muttered. “What else are you going to do?”

“ _We_ are going to get tattoos,” he grinned at Liam, momentarily taking his eyes off the road.

“You? Tattoo? You hate needles!”

“We’re going to be rebellious tonight! Did you not hear me?”

“Is this because Zayn left for Ramadhan?” Liam wondered out loud.

“Fuck him! Fuck that Ravenclaw piece of shit,” he cursed and Liam was taken by surprise. “If he leaves, who the fuck cares, right? Not even a word beforehand? Some bullshit about wanting to sort his life? Fuck him and fuck it all!”

Liam was starting to wonder how he can secretly call Eleanor without Niall noticing but… like he said before, he did not want to be _that_ asshole.

“I’m not feeing this song,” said Niall, changing the song already, “there aren’t any swear words in it and I keep thinking of the sad movie. Do you have any metal music?”

“No.”

“Hip-Hop?”

“No.”

“Liar!”

“Okay, fine, I do but it’s mellow Hip-Hop.”

“No Lil’Wayne or Eminem?”

“I have _Berzerk_.”

“Perfect!”

The rest of the way, they listen to _Berzerk_ on repeat. Liam’s gut kept dropping lower and lower as they neared Zayn’s house and all plans of stopping Niall’s dumb plan without seeming like a bad brother did not yield fruit. He was going in.

Once at Zayn’s house, parked opposite it, he slowly came out of the Range and shut it, Niall coming round with baseball bats and a jerican. Before he could ask what those were for _and_ where he found them, Niall asked him to take a photo of him. He took Niall’s phone, opened Snapchat and found Niall wearing a ski mask through the camera App.

“What the…?” He lowered the phone. “What’s the mask for?”

“I don’t want people to know it’s me.”

“But you’re uploading the photo on Snapchat! Obviously they’ll know.”

“They won’t know it’s _me_ , but Zayn will know.”

“I think everyone will know,” he deadpanned.

“Take the damn photo!” Niall commanded. Liam took the photo but he drew the line, already opting out. “Fine. Stay here and watch my car.”

Niall headed towards the house, Liam leaning against the Range with his arms crossed over his black hoodie. He looked up the road, and the other way, seeing no one driving or walking up the road but there were houses with their lights on.

Niall threw his destructive materials over the gate and he jumped over, following them. He picked them up, tapping his butt to make sure his phone was there, and walked forward. It was a trek to the door of Zayn’s door but with each step, he was burning up inside, his heart was on fire and his eyes sharp.

He started with breaking the windows he could reach, smashing them, to pieces and cracks. Adrenaline was flowing rapidly, his fingers were burning and he swung his bat, swung it high, swung it low, the sounds of breaking glass music to his ears.

When he broke the door down, he quickly turned off the alarm. He was in. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled as loud as he could into the midnight air. Not seconds later, several dogs jumped towards him, each wagging their tails excitedly.

“In,” he instructed them. “Go wild!”

The dogs rushed in and Niall closed the door behind him. Perhaps there was no point but, force of habit and all that. He put on a construction helmet and turned on the torch. Earlier in the week, he had smashed the power source therefor the entire mansion was in utter darkness.

He began by spray painting the walls of… whatever he could think of. Some were doodles, others of stick figures, various penis shapes, lyrics of Zayn’s songs off his album, and he even drew (the word used lightly here) some of Zayn’s tattoos on the walls until there was no clean wall on the ground floor to spray paint some more.

“Niall!”

Niall made no movement to acknowledge the voice.

“Niall!”

“In here,” he answered.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE WALLS?!” Liam yelled, his eyes on the wall, the moonlight illuminating what Niall has drawn over with, well, what looks like nonsense.

“Graffiti.”

“Where are you?”

“In here,” he repeated. Liam came walked in the kitchen and stumbled inside. “Watch out for the dead snakes.”

A (manly) squeal escaped Liam’s lips as he jumped on the spot. Then some more when his boots steps on something… slimey. And he jumped around, squealing as Niall patiently was looking for the bigger torch he hid in one of the drawers. Oh right. It was the oven. He smashed the oven glass and took out the torch.

“Niall!” Liam whined, sounding breathless. “Please light your torch this way.”

Niall did better. He lit the large torch and faced it towards the ceiling so the kitchen was somewhat illuminated, and a little more brighter thanks to the moon. Liam relaxed against the drawn-on wall, catching his breath. Niall moved to the fridge and opened it. He began convulsively coughing what with the smell of rotting fish and milk emanating from the fridge and shut it.

“What’s that smell? Smells like rotting corpses.”

“That’s not what rotting corpses smell like,” he said, coughing lightly now. “There’s a rotting corpse upstairs.”

“You brought a dead body inside?” shrieked Liam, trembling up against the wall.

“I thought you’re guarding my car?” questioned Niall.

“You’re doing something dumb, Nialler, and friends don’t let friends do dumb things. Alone,” he added when Niall was opening his mouth to say something.

“If you’re coming along I don’t want to hear I’m doing dumb shit.”

“I don’t think that’s optional,” mumbled Liam. He looked to the floor and inhaled sharply. The floor was littered with snakes, whether some were alive or dead, he did not want to know, it was a _sea of snakes_ , all kinds. He wanted to get out of the kitchen but Niall was crouched somewhere in front of him and he did not want to be _that_ asshole friend nudging him to leave _, please_.

“I’ve been coming here every week,” said Niall as a way of explaining Liam’s unanswered questions. “Each day, I would bring something like spray paints, food items, diapers, trash really, and leave them in each room. I then paid some homeless men and women to live in the house and not clean up after their mess.”

Liam gagged. “Gross.”

“I cut off the plumbing,” he continued, nonchalant, “so the toilet does not work. Nor do the taps and other water outlets. I called Eóghan who knew a guy who knew a guy who was into snakes. Like, mad obsessed with them and I paid him to give me some of his snakes. I put snake eggs that would be hatching in a couple of weeks in hiding spots around the house.”

“You did what?” shrieked Liam. Liam plastered himself back to the wall, his head banging the wall, too. He tried to control his breathing but the thoughts of about-to-hatch snake eggs lying around anywhere in this house, at this very moment, was creeping him out.

“There should be some hatching this week. Three hatched yesterday,” Niall supplied, unhelpfully to Liam’s abidingly beating heart. Liam was going to pass out! “This is just like in _Chamber of Secrets_ when there was a basilisk scare in Hogwarts.”

“That was a movie, Nialler!” he pointed out, shakily.

Niall shrugged in response. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” he asked, seeing Niall was holding a plastic bag of… fish? Was that fish? Or squid? Liam clamped a hand over his mouth following Niall out of the kitchen before it was completely dark once again and he was tripping over the snakes on the floor.

First was the bathroom upstairs, which bathroom Liam did not know but it was a bathroom judging by the toilet and sink. Or what is left of them. Niall had not been exaggerating when he said the plumbing was off, but that was not all that was off. Liam’s hand slapped over his nose, for the vomit-inducing smell and, belatedly, his mouth to hold his dinner down. His eyes fell on the broken toilet, remnants of stool, soggy tissue and pee in (what was left of it) the toilet and around it, the toilet bowl was completely gone as if it never existed. His eyes moved further down to the tiled floor and it looked as if someone was physically trying to have them removed.

His back involuntarily fell against the wall, one he was hoping was not smeared with faeces, and tried to breath normally, one in, hold for three seconds, and breath out, for another three, two in… but he could not. He saw his reflection in the mirror and he is absolutely pale.

“Why?” he said, voice muffled by his hand.

“Why what?”

“Why trash his house?”

“Because gardening doesn’t fucking work Payno!” he shouted at Liam.

Next was the master bedroom which, and Liam heaving a sigh of relief, had no horrible odor to it, save for the stale odor that he was praying, absolutely praying, was not the smell of sex and sweat. He would open the window for fresh air but the windows were all broken. The bed was broken, the carpet teared as if rough claws scratched on it endlessly, lamps were thrown across the floor haphazardly, the walls smashed into, the frames hung on the wall carefully but their glass shattered and the photos in it shredded into pieces, and Liam flinched each time Niall punched the wall.

He wanted to stop Niall, stop him from breaking his poor knuckles but a part of Liam knew Niall needed this, needed to release his anger at Zayn, but there had to be a better way, right?

He stood outside the other bedrooms belonging to Zayn, hearing the screams, the punches, smashing of glass, or something breaking, and he simply counted down to 0, his brain counting from 10 to 0 in a continuous cycle. He had gone through four cycles before Niall was emerging from one of the bedrooms, passing him and heading downstairs.

He glanced back, hoping for—anything really. Perhaps for Zayn to suddenly appear and stop Niall, for a figure in white to intervene, for one of the homeless people to stop Niall, do anything to stop Niall from hurting himself and the house. But none was forthcoming and he was alone, in the dark, in a broken home.

By the time Niall reaches the basement, Liam could not take it anymore. Firstly, the floor of the basement was filled with water. Or, he hoped it was water. But water had no distinct smell and whatever splashing sounds his feet were making as he walked through the basement has a strong odor. Second were the snails stuck to the walls that he noticed when he shined his torch around the dark basement. He took pride in not being fearful of small creepy crawlies, or slimey buggers, but snails? This was not his scene. This was not him. And he knew this was not Niall.

But he stayed put as Niall beat whatever he could with the baseball bat he had brought. He was not hitting things in particular, simply making sure all the anger left his body, as if destroying all the Zayn inside of him.

**~             ~            *           ~             ~**

  
**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_Don’t believe stereotypes. Get to know people personally instead of judging them #MotivationWithNiall_

  
Liam had managed to convince Niall that enough was enough and they should leave Zayn’s house before the police arrived. For sure, they were on their way, what with the growing fire Niall built, along with the homeless, in Zayn’s backyard. Where they got the wood, oil, match sticks, and all beats Liam but. The police were on their way!

The two of them were hiding behind a hedge, the sounds of the fire brigade, police, ambulance, loud chatters and occasional screams, couple of gun shots and Liam’s loud breathing was what was all around them.

“Do you think they’ll find us?” asked Liam, breathless. He was fidgety, his hands had not stopped shaking since they ran from Zayn’s to the hedge where they were hiding from.

Niall shrugged, seemingly in grief, and the scene behind them was not a deterrence. Liam, however, had made sure that Niall’s Range was safe and the police were not looking their way. He went back to sitting, with his back against the hedge and feet stretched endlessly before him.

“Do you think he’ll be back?” Niall quietly asked, startling Liam from the silence that had fallen between them.

“What?”

“Zayn. Do you think he’ll come back?”

And, oh. It hit Liam, then, that this was not all done in vain. It was not some stupid vandalism but a cry. Niall was calling Zayn. Calling him from wherever he disappeared off to during the month of Ramadhan to come back to London, to come back home.

“You didn’t have to trash his house to get his attention,” said Liam. Niall neither asked nor commented, choosing to remain quiet. Liam exhaled. “This is going to be in the news tomorrow, trust, and yeah, think he’ll be back.” He turned to face Niall, or rather the side of his face. “I miss him, too.”

Niall blinked at the grass they were sitting on, as if in a trance.

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Course I like him!”

“No. You like _like_ him. You love him, more than a friend,” he elaborated for Niall. Either Niall was exhausted to reply or he had reached the final stage of acceptance of his feelings because he did not correct Liam. “Since when?” he asked him quietly.

“There’s no exact moment,” admitted Niall, eyes looking intently at the grass, “when I knew, ‘I love Zayn.’ It just. Happened. And I knew I was fucked.”

Liam opened and closed his mouth uselessly, not knowing what to say to Niall, what to tell him, not forgetting his mind was on overdrive over the fact that his brother was gay. Niall was gay and with what he has gone through this night, _this_ was the most surprising of all.

“I don’t care that you’re gay, if… if that… just want to say that. Put it out there.”

Niall smiled at the ground. “Thanks. I came out to Ma the other day and I think I was more scared of her knowing I liked Zayn than me being bi.”

Liam chuckled, lightly. “Why?”

“Falling in love with your best friend is the worst thing in the world.”

“Remember back when we were in Perth, touring the Midnight Memories album, and it was one of those nights where Harry would be moping about Louis?” asked Liam and Niall nodded, a small playing on his lips as he remembered the night. “And he said, ‘The worst thing in this entire world is falling for someone straight. They give you Hell.’” Liam paused, twisting his head to look at Niall. “Is that what you feel?”

Niall chewed on his bottom lip before responding. “I’m trying not to.”

“Trying not to… feel?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” he answered weakly.

“How? How are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know, Payno,” he growled, and punched the ground with both of his fists. “I don’t know but I miss him so much, so, so much. I understand why he left but.” He inhaled shakily. “How do I make you understand?”

Liam shook his head slowly, alarmed. “I don’t need to understand if _you_ don’t.”

Niall buried his head in his hands. “The thing is I understand why, I really, really do but I don’t accept it.” He looked to Liam. “The world drove him away, all the hate, the cold, the disgust, all the negative vibes drove him away… to wherever he is and I don’t even know and… and it seems like no one cares about him expect me.”

“He wanted to get away, just to travel and get away from it all. We all do sometimes.”

“There’s a difference, Payno. Zayn does this all the time, apparently, and.” He choked back on a sob. “Tricia said he does this, his sisters didn’t even blink when I asked how they don’t know where he is, Jawaad said he’ll be back on Eid. I even asked Gigi! Nothing. Nobody cares, Payno, and it feels like I’m the only one who does.”

“I do too, Nialler.”

He sharply inhaled, eyes up at the blank night sky. “I’m supposed to be his best friend and I don’t know shit. I wasn’t enough. One more time, I couldn’t make someone stay.”

Liam’s eyes shot wide open seeing Niall not bothering to hold back his tears, letting them wet his pink cheeks, down to his chin. He felt his whole body frozen on the spot, could not reach out to Niall, could not wrap his arms around his cold hands, could do nothing to stop his tears.

“Ma always said if people want to leave you should hold open the door, Holly taught me that people often leave and it’s not your fault, Bobby taught me that love doesn’t make people stay, but when people give you so many chances for you to hold them, to keep them from slipping between your fingers, but they still do,” his voice cracked, “and you try to hold them but they’re like dust through your fingers so all you do is watch them fade into the distance like a mirage.”

Silence befell between them but beyond the hedge they were hiding behind, the fire brigade, police, ambulances, loud voices and some screams were still in operation. Still loud but not loud enough to drown Niall’s sobs.

“He’s not like everyone else, Nialler,” Liam tried, “this is Zayn. Your Zayn. He didn’t leave…”

“Then why does it feel like it?”

Liam ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know,” he repeated, “and I’m sorry.” Liam reached out and held Niall’s hand as he painfully listened to his sobs. He hated Zayn’s ass right now but, if he was the same person still, he sort of knew Zayn disappeared for his own reasons. Some he never got to know, others he did, and some happened out of the blue such as March, 2015.

Liam was starting to think that the first time Zayn left was the most significant moment. He did not know when it was, but it was when they were all in One Direction before the _Up All Night_ album set to be released and the four of them were together, minus Zayn. He was nowhere to be found when the album dropped, nor was he a couple of days later. He had personally called Tricia, asking if Zayn was home, but her nonchalant voice told him that he was off somewhere and would be back soon.

He had found it odd, but because Tricia was not worried, so neither would he be. It became a recurring event for Zayn. He would disappear for a couple of days, soon going for a week, two weeks, and nobody blinked. Nobody uttered a word about it. He always came back, after all!

He had decided to get close to Zayn, sometime in the highlight of their careers, try to understand where he went off to, why he left. But he never did. Zayn would be off one Thursday afternoon and not be back, two weeks later on a Tuesday morning, and life continued like normal.

He got close one time. He had been with Zayn for some time he learnt the signs of when he was about to departure.

_“Where are you going?” he asks Zayn._

_“Out.”_

_Liam looks around Bus 1 to find Zayn’s cubicle curtains drawn back, bed made and his duffle bag full on the ground. “Out that you need a bag full of a week’s-worth of clothes?”_

_Zayn silently looks at him. He bends down and hangs his duffle bag over his shoulder and heads for the bus door._

_“Where are you going mate?”_

_“Out, Liam.”_

_“Let me come with.”_

_This stops Zayn in his tracks. He does not turn to face Liam as he says, “You won’t like it there.”_

_“Where is there?”_

_“On the beach.”_

_“I love the beach,” Liam says, desperation in his voice. He can hear it, he swears Zayn can too, but he just wants to know where he is going. “Let’s go together. Like a lad’s holiday or summat.”_

_“Not a holiday, Li. Need to get away.”_

_“Away?” he asks, surprised. “Away from what?”_

_“All this,” he sighs, frustratingly. He turns on the spot and Liam starts. Zayn looks… different. He looks as if he is going somewhere far, far away and not come back. “All of it, Li. I just. Need to get away, alright? Alone.”_

_“Just tell me where,” he pleads, taking a step forward. Zayn takes another back, as if repulsed by him. “Just a name. Please Zayn.”_

To this day Liam swore Zayn was going to tell him, he looked like the destination was going to slip from his mouth, but Louis barged in the bus, laughing loudly with Niall, and Zayn slipped quietly out the Bus 1 door, distracted by some tale Louis was saying.

Liam tried, many times after that, to follow Zayn, to catch him before he departed but it was as if Zayn was smarter, that he eluded even him. He took comfort in the fact that he always came back, whether on tour or not, Zayn always came back.

Until one day he did not.

And he did not know where to find him. How was he to find him now when he never could all those chances before? How could he even begin? Where was he to start? So he let Zayn disappear, let him disappear in the distance like a mirage (Niall putting it nicely) and he tried to follow but he could not. What with the FOUR tour still going on, the storm he left behind, his family not speaking to either of them (Harry endlessly called Walihya and Tricia but none picked up the phone), and him not knowing the first thing about where Zayn usually disappeared off to.

As they were heading to South Africa for the next part of their tour, he was sat at Hong Kong International Airport, looking up at the screens at the airport indicating the arrivals and departures. So many cities, so many flights to countless spots on the map, and Zayn was in one of them. One of them held Zayn. So each time for the rest of their tour, until they announced the hiatus, he would look at the departures at whatever airport he was at, wondering which one Zayn was in. He often hoped that he was flying to the same city as Zayn but that was wishful thinking.

“You can’t stop people from leaving, Niall,” he said. It seemed the drama behind them, over the hedge, had quieted down as there was minimal noise, Niall was stoic sat beside him, and the night air was blowing through his thick hoodie.

“You should try to stop them.”

Liam shook his head. “We always think we have forever, but all we have is hello and goodbye and everything in between.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where does one even find /SNAKES/, dead or alive?! NIALL'S INSANE idk how liam remained with niall with the snakes LOLOL
> 
> KUDOS & ALL COMMENTS are highly appreciated ☻, even if they are random. take care sons !!


	21. Lost Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall and Zayn have 'the talk.'

****

 

 

> **When you’re too in love to let it go,  
>  But if you never try you’ll never know.  
>        ~ Coldplay **

 

Niall composed himself inside his black Range. He inhaled for three seconds, exhaled for four seconds, and repeated for a couple of times. As he was counting to three, Troye Sivan was on full blast, almost, _just almost_ , drowning his nerves and his brain overworking itself.

“ _So if I’m losing a piece of me / Maybe I don’t want heaven_ ,” he sang along, the pads of his fingers tapping the steering wheel. He continues singing as his eyes wander to the sister’s apartment across the street. He did not know how long he sat there, but long enough that he knew the bridge of _HEAVEN_ by heart (finally).

Crossing the street, he walked to the apartment, rang the bell, and the sister’s voice rang through.

_Hello?_

“It’s Niall,” he said, his finger pressing firmly on the black button. There was silence on the other end. After a moment or two passed, there was a buzzing sound to which he pushed open the door and headed for the fifth floor – taking the stairs. His knees felt heavy as he approached the fifth floor, internally cursing he did not have spare ointment for his knee in the car as the flight of stairs were daunting as he approached the fourth floor. His knees were not weak just from climbing the stairs but what was beyond Doniya’s door. Or whom.

He pressed the doorbell and it became background noise, second to the sound of blood rushing to his ears. He gulped as the door opened, slow in his mind, and beyond it was Doniya, his sister.

“Hey Niall!” She moved in to hug him. “It’s been so long!”

He cut the bull and asked, “Where is he?”

She bit her lip as she looked behind her, then to him, she said, “Just woke up. He wanted to tell you that he was back, but.”

“I had to find out from Hadiyya,” he gritted his teeth. “ _Hadiyya_ , Doniya.”

“It’s a day before Eid,” she said, with a weak shrug of the shoulder.

He frowned. What did that have to do with anything? He asked, aloud, what he was thinking.

“Eid is to be celebrated with family, not alone.”

“And fasting is meant to be done alone?” he snapped.

“Niall!”

He started at his voice. It has been so, so long since he had the voice of melted caramel. The smooth, raspy voice belonging to the dark-haired, whiskey eyes, sweet creature. His eyes widened as he came from behind Doniya to stand beside her. _He shaved?_ His mind shrieked. He was buzzed-cut!

His eyes wandered to his face, sleepy eyes with eyelashes for days, cheekbones that could cut through glass and jawline carved by the gods were normal. What was different about him were the piercings and the tattoos. He had a nose piercing, several ear piercings, on his left ear spotting daith and industrial piercings, and his left ear snug and conch piercings that honestly suited him, especially by mixing black and silver earrings. As if the piercings were no enough, he went ahead and got himself a tongue venom piercing.

From his arms, the left hand looked as if it was now a full-sleeve, no skin could be seen, his low-riding shirt exposed his collarbones that were inked with… is that the symbol for a Capricorn? And was that a tattoo on the side of his head as well?

Where the hell did Zayn spend his Ramadhan? _Probably a tattoo shop_ , supplied his mind.

“You tattooed your head?” he gawked.

Zayn reached and thumbed the tattoo on his temple. “Henna.”

Doniya clasped her hand loudly startling Niall from his reverie to Zayn. “This is all lovely but I’ve got a meeting to go for . Keep my apartment safe, anything broken or not working you’re in trouble,” she warned and to Niall, she bid him goodbye ad invited him for Eid celebrations in Bradford.

“Sure,” he agreed easily.

“It’s the entire day, so it’ll be for two days,” she went on, “but we’d love to have you for two days. The day after is just as fun as Eid itself.”

“Sure,” he repeated. Then Doniya was out and then there were two. “When did you get back?”

“‘Bout a week ago,” answered Zayn, standing tentatively in his black sweatpants and Batman shirt. Niall stared at his mouth, more specifically his tongue venom piercing. It looked cool, really, but also… unlike Zayn? He cannot quite put his finger on it but it spoke volumes about Zayn yet at the same time did not. “You’re staring!”

Niall blinked and looked around the apartment.  “ Your sister has a nice flat.”

“I’m making drinks.”

“You just woke up,” Niall pointed out but nevertheless followed him to the kitchen where it seemed he had set up shop for a mini-bar.

“Somewhere in the world it is noon,” he smirked at him and Niall felt uneasy. Silence echoed in the apartment as Zayn was making two Sidecars (Niall’s favorite) and a Martini for himself. “So,” he casually said sliding both Sidecars to Niall, “why did you torch my house?”

Niall swallowed. He could lie, say it was not him, say it was… but with the way Zayn said it, as if he just knew it was Niall (who else really?) made Niall not want to lie but come out with it. So, they were doing this. Right now. “You made me sad.”

Zayn frowned. “Sad?”

“You left,” he voiced his thoughts, the memories of the night flooding him. “You left me.”

“Doesn’t mean you torch my house,” Zayn said, an edge to his voice. “You know the police called Doniya because I was too far, and when she told me what the house looked like I didn’t believe her. Only when I saw the photos that she sent to me did I believe her. Then the police called, informing me that I’m facing several charges and almost all of them are to do with destruction, neglect or disturbance, so I’ll be in Court starting tomorrow for possible the next three weeks, _fuckyouverymuch_.”

Niall swallowed.

“As if that was not enough, there is absolutely nothing I can do with the house. Plumbing, gone. Walls, broken. So are the lights which, by the way, you cut off the supply grid for the entire neighborhood! Smells like rotting bodies everywhere! And oh! How could I forget? Animal control agencies are wondering how on earth I found all those dead snakes, pigs, and even the bloody bats – which I’m also wondering because don’t you hate bats?”

“No,” Niall stupidly answered, his voice shaking. “Not anymore.”

“And the homeless people? Where on earth did you find them, Niall? Pretty sure I don’t live near any homeless person by a hundreds of kilometers!”

“I drove them there.”

Zayn stared at him. He blinked several times, as if not hearing the words coming out of Niall’s mouth. “You drove them there?” he parroted his words. “Do you hear yourself? You drove a thousand and one homeless persons to my house and for what? Why did you do it?”

“I wanted you back,” he weakly said, looking up from his untouched Sidecar. “I missed you.”

“You missed me.” Zayn narrowed his eyes. “Funny way of showing it.”

“I tried calling, texting, emailing, even Tweeting, Instagramming. I called your parents, sisters, Jawaad, Hadiyya, even your ex-girlfriend just to get in contact with you but I came empty. SO what else was I suppo—”

Zayn slammed his third Martini glass hard on the countertop. “Did you not get my CD?”

“Your cryptic CD?” he scoffed. “Yeah, I did.”

“And? I explained everything on there, everything I could never tell you I said it on the CD so that I wouldn’t have—”

“Why?”

“You fucked up my house!” Zayn growls and Niall was shocked. It was the first time he had ever seen Zayn this angry. This—abrupt. His lips parted and he breathed through them, his fingers gripping the countertop that the pads of his fingers were white. “You destroyed, not only my house, but basically my reputation. This entire week I have been in and out of court, paying this agency, or the other, I cannot buy a house or apartment anywhere in London anymore because of the shit you pulled.” Niall jumped from his tool as Zayn took his Martini glass and smashed it against the wall to Niall’s right. “Everyone  in the neighborhood is asking for compensation, something that I cannot…”

Niall shut him out. He looked down at his not-drunk-yet Sidecar, his thumbs pressing to the side of the glass. Perhaps he had gone too far with trashing Zayn’s house. Perhaps. But.

“It was a cry for help.”

“What?”

“What I did,” he looked up at a fuming yet confused Zayn, “was a cry for help.”

“You could’ve just waited for me.”

“You left, Zayn, and you know, you bloody know more than anyone, what leaving does to me,” he confessed, trying to control his anger from spilling through his mouth. “You know what it sparks and I just—lose it. So I did what I did because I truly, truly thought you left.”

Zayn hollers to his face, “I said I was coming back!”

“You left!” he screamed back at him. “You don’t get to leave without a word. You don’t get to up and go without saying where you are going. You don’t get to walk into someone’s life, stay there, and then check out. I’m not a fucking hotel, Zayn.” He watched Zayn swallow silently but he could see his fists shaking on the countertop. “This isn’t March again.”

Zayn looked as if he had been stricken. “Don’t bring that up!”

“Why not?” Niall leveled him with a look. “Why not, Zayn? It’s the same fucking thing, innit? You left now, just like last year you left the band. It’s what you do, it’s who you are, and you can’t help but—”

“Niall, stop!”

“—do it because you like to run away,” he finished. He exhaled, fluttering his eyes shut. “You ran away thinking that the world behind you will fade but it doesn’t. You don’t fade away, either. You owe it to everyone that you’re leaving behind—”

He stumbled backwards on his chair as two hands pushed him back and he barely caught himself on the countertop from falling on his ass.

“You don’t know me,” Zayn muttered, eyes sharply looking at him. “Don’t act like you know what I go—”

“I do know you,” he protested. He barely ducked Zayn pushing him on his chest backwards. “I do know you and you know that. It’s what—”

“No, you don’t.” Zayn shoved Niall backwards. “You don’t know me at all. You think you do but you don’t.”

“I know you better than your so-called friends, cousins, I know parts you that your family only dream of knowing.”

“You know what’s the truth, Niall,” asked Zayn, hypothetically. Niall remained silent, most to wonder why he was letting Zayn push him back as well as how they got to this point. But it was the day to lay everything on the table, it seemed. “You got this idea of me in your head.”

“Do not,” he breathed.

“Do too.”

“I kno—”

“You got an idea of who I am! But guess what, Niall, I am not an idea. I am not who you think I am in your bloody head. I’m right here,” he sprang his arms wide open like an eagle, “in front of you but you still don’t see me. You still see the other Zayn you’ve got stuck in your head that doesn’t exist.”

“I don’t have an idea of you in my head,” he frowned, back against the wall and Zayn threateningly in front of him and up until today he had never felt an inch of fear for Zayn. “I have the real you in my head.”

“No. You. Don’t!” he snarled.

“Just because I can see you and you can’t see it yourself doesn’t make me a liar,” he said. “You refuse to because you’re far up in some world in your head that you can’t come back down to Earth and see things for what they are.”

“I do see things for what they are and I just want to be left the hell alone. I always do, I always want to be left alone and that is why I always disappeared. Why I always left.”

“Until you left permanently,” he scoffed at him.

“S’the reason why I leave.”

“And you think nobody cares?” he growled at him, lurching forward. Zayn tumbled back a little. “You think nobody notices that you’re gone? You think you’ll be forgotten when you suddenly go off to some beach somewhere? You’re fucking wrong!” He grabbed his arms and shook Zayn’s still body. “You’re wrong because _I care_ ; why can’t you see that?”

“Because it’s not real,” Zayn told him, whacking off the tight grip he had on him, “and… and that doesn’t matter because nothing, absolutely nothing I do is _enough_. I’m not good enough for anyone anymore. Not my girlfriends, my sisters, my Mom, Dad, friends… me.” He palmed his hand on top of his head. “Not good enough and it’s scaring me.”

“Nobody thinks that, swear on it.”

“Why do _you_ care?”

“Because you’re my friend,” he told him, his voice full of fond. “You’re my best friend.”

“That’s not enough. You’re best friends with the idea of me.”

Niall saw red them. He slapped Zayn square in the face. “Stop saying that shit, you fucking thundercunt, because it’s not true. You think you’re this mysterious person like you were in One D because guess what, you aren’t. You’re an open book that people need to read over and over to understand. And I did. I read your book, read it again and again, and each day there’s a new chapter that I look forward to—”

“Shut up!” Zayn cried, covering his ears. “Shut _up_!”

“You need to look at yourself, Zayn, really, really, look into yourself,” said Niall, watching Zayn cover his ears like a 10-year old child. “You think all this running away will help clarify who you are but it doesn’t, and you always feel that at the end of it. You thought these trips will help you find the answers as if they are at the end of a bottle but guess what? Nothing is at the bottom of that bottle.”

It was a blur after that. All the air was whipped out of him as he bent forward from the hand that hit his stomach, then he was being lifted by his shoulders and pushed hard against the wall, he hissed sharply from the impact. Niall’s hand curved around his stomach, and bent forward a little, the pain a discomfort but not painful as such.

“You’re a liar! S’all you are.”

“You’re going to hit me every time I say the truth?” he said, laughter tracing his words.

“Hit me!”

“What?”

Zayn brought his fist to Niall’s nose. “Hit me!”

His hands cupped his nose as he groaned in pain. He preferred being punched in the stomach, for sure, this was another sort of—

Zayn brought his knee up as he grabbed the back of Niall’s head and hit his nose yet again on his knee. “Hit me, you fucker.”

“I’m not going to.”

That earned him one punch to his bleeding, fractured nose, and another to his shoulder he swore he heard a crack. Niall shook his head when Zayn urged him to fight him and he was shoved against the wall, the back of his head bouncing against the wall. He was pulled away from the wall and fell back, his back arching off the floor on impact with… a torch? Who kept a torch on the floor?

He rolled away from it, his hand coming up behind him to soothe his aching back.

“Fight me, you ass,” Zayn taunted. He rolled him and grabbed Niall by the collar of his plaid shirt and let him go, his head landing painfully to the tiled floor. His eyes shut at the impact, a stinging pain at the back of his head.

“I won’t.”

“Why not?” he growled. Zayn picked him up from the ground with his clothes, Niall uselessly holding down his wrists, and dragged him up and threw him against the wall. Niall bent forward, his back feeling as if his ribs were shattering inside of him. “Why not, Niall?” He hit in, fist clenched, square in his chest that Niall went blind for a moment. His mouth fell and his hands cupped his chest, feeling as if his lungs were folding in on themselves. “Why not?!”

“Because you, for some reason, like the pain.” He pulled himself up, wincing at the pain on his chest. _Damn_ , Zayn could hit. Oh yeah, he belatedly remembered, Zayn was a boxer. And he was a couch potato. Great. He felt all the air in his lungs give out once more then Zayn’s fists came at lightning speed in the middle of his chest. He tried blocking but he was too late, too slow.

He palmed his chest, barely breathing as he felt as if his ribs were compressing his lungs and heart. He was taking in slow, sharp breathes because when he did take normal breathes, his chest ached, ached terribly he feared this was how strokes began. Or heat attacks. Or any heart-stopping illness, really.

“You like the pain,” he hoarsely said, “because you think you deserve it. So if I hit you, you’ll tell yourself ‘I deserve this.’ as I hit you.”

“I do!”

“Stop pitying yourself,” he groaned, his head lolling against the wall. He really, really wanted to sit down. Lie on the floor. Or call 999, either would be great.

“I’m not pitying myself…”

Niall tuned him out, opting to take in slow, sharp breathes through his mouth, what with his busted nose, and holding his chest as if to lessen the pain. He closed his eyes, his stomach moving in tune with his inhales, and exhales, and slowly it was as if the pain was reducing. And it came back in a throbbing whirlwind when Zayn shoved his hand to his stomach and slapped his face with the back of his hand.

He could taste the metallic blood on his lips, the smell it pungent and making him feel dizzy. He held onto his chest, praying his lungs kept doing their job or he would not see tomorrow. “You’re going to beat me until I can’t properly breath? Until I’m dead? What then? Will you finally find the answers you’re looking for?”

“Fight me.”

“You don’t destroy people who you love, only people you hate.” Niall clutched his shirt. “Ow fuck! I don’t think I can breathe.” He slid down against the wall to the ground but Zayn was having none of it. He lifted him back up with the seams of his plaid shirt. “Can’t I sit?”

“No,” Zayn shook his head, “why’d you care? Why do you care where I disappear off to?”

“Because I do.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you,” he whispered.

Zayn snorted bitterly. “You don’t love me.”

“I really do,” said Niall, croakily. He was thankful Zayn had let go of the death grip on his shirt. Now he could continue on inhaling and exhaling in a way that did not feel as if his ribs were pressing strongly to his lungs.

“No, you don’t.”

His wiped the blood off his lips that was trickling down his fractured nose. “I do.”

“Why?” he asked and Niall’s heart cracked, cracked in half because it was not that Zayn was asking but because he did not believe in Niall, did not believe that he loved Zayn, did not believe anyone could love him truly. “Why do you love me?”

“I love you because you’re you,” he told him, fond seeping into his voice. “In a world, that’s constantly changing, everyone trying to fit in descriptions and labels, you remained exactly where you are and I love that about you; it’s why I love you.”

“But—but I’m all wrong,” Zayn responded after he recovered from Niall’s words and was not feeling his mouth and feet frozen on the floor. “I’m so wrong you can’t love me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you.”

Niall fluttered his eyes shut, mouth agape to keep breathing and his hands palming his chest in circles to keep him from feeling as if his lungs were curling inside. Zayn was off a different opinion. He yanked Niall’s arms away, his eyes opening in alarm, and he pinned them above his brown hair.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Zayn squeezed his wrists and Niall winced at the ache. “I am wrong. I’m what’s wrong. Too much is wrong with me and that’s the problem, innit? I do everything for everyone, everything to be perfect. The perfect son, the perfect brother, friend, artist… _Everything_. I’m what’s wrong, Niall,” Niall winced when he pressed down his wrists again, “there’s nothing I can do about it and if I’m not hurting myself, I’m hurting everyone around me.”

There were tracks rolling down Zayn’s cheeks, his mouth curved upside down and his hazel-colored eyes that once shone losing their light. But Niall laid still beneath him, some of his sadness dropping like rain on his cheeks, and the more he listened to him, took him in, the longer he forgot how he could not breathe.

“I’m nothing, Niall. Too much is wrong with me and I’m constantly screaming, down on my knees, screaming at the world, at the moon, at Allah, ‘Can’t you see me?’ I beg Allah to see me, to really see me but.” He choked back on hot sobs. He was not bothered with covering anything up, apparently too tired, too done with all of it. “Can’t anyone see me?”

“I did,” he whispered. “I do.”

Zayn shut his eyes and looked up to the ceiling. Fresh trails flowed down his cheeks and to his stubble and down his neck.

“I love you Zayn,” he decided to say it, to say it all, “I love you more than a best friend…” he left his sentence to peter out when Zayn began shaking his head, still looking at the ceiling.

“Don’t be in love with me,” he practically begged him.

“Can’t change it.”

Zayn then locked eyes with Niall and he started. He shivered against on the floor and his heart rate rose as Zayn’s eyes looked at him, no, right through him as if he were a ghost in Doniya’s apartment. His eyes were eerily empty and it scared Niall to his Irish bones.

Unfortunately, Niall’s heart rate was rising quickly and he began gulping in air. His eyes looked elsewhere but at Zayn; at the chandelier, at the painting on the wall, at the color of the wall, as he breathed in, out, in… out… in…

“If I let myself be happy, it’ll end,” said Zayn, his voice sounding far off in Niall’s ears. “I was happy in One Direction, then it suffocated me, so I left. Sometimes it never comes so I make my bed by cheating on Perrie… Aisha… if I let myself be happy with you, you’ll suffocate me or I’ll destroy you.”

Niall breathed in… out… in… out. He looked away to Zayn’s face that was tense, his jawline was hard and his eyes piercing, and swallowed. Zayn got off Niall and rose to his feet. He paced up and down around Niall’s head that he became dizzy with his movements Niall shut his eyes.

“I’d never suffocate you,” he said, breathlessly.

“I’ll destroy you.”

“Lies,” Niall shut his eyes, again, to get his breathing in order. He was breathing fast and this was not good. It did not look as if Zayn cared he would die from lack of oxygen. He was pacing up and down near Niall’s head. Finally he stopped and looked down at Niall’s eyelids.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Zayn told him, quiet.

Asphyxiation, was it? That was when one died from lack of oxygen and, _oh my days_ , he might just die from it because he was breathing too, too quickly, and shallow, for someone who did not have breathing problems. He groaned as he got off the floor, his fingers clutching to his shirt, and stumbled back to the wall he previously had been standing against.

“You just did,” Niall mumbled. He turned and leaned against the wall with his side. There was no use breathing through his nose, it was now up to his mouth to sustain his collapsing lungs. He had been accused of being dramatic but he had to do it, one because his lungs _were dying_ and two, he had had enough with Zayn’s denial. “Just for a fact,” he struggled to push himself off the wall and managing to, “this is not me leaving but you pushing me away.”

Zayn panicked on the spot. He watched Niall painfully walk towards the door to his sister’s apartment. He was walking with one hand over his chest, his shoulder sharply moving up and down and loud, breathing he could hear from where he was standing.

“Don’t leave,” he said except his mouth moved but no voice came out. It was all in his head. He, however, found himself following him to the door. He chanted, _Don’t leave_ , in his head repeatedly as Niall struggled with the lock, uselessly tried opening the door, walked the four steps to the lift, and as he leaned against the wall waiting for the lift to arrive, he still chanted, _don’t leave_ , _Niall_.

“You’re a precious person, Zayn,” he said, his voice fading off, “in fact, you’re a wonderful, much more than you give yourself credit for.”

“Don’t leave,” Zayn found his voice. “Don’t leave, Niall. Please.”

The lift dinged and its doors opened. Niall looked to the left, back at Zayn, then to the lift as he walked in. He leaned to the one corner of the lift, hand on his chest as he struggled to breathe through his mouth, and another pressing the button.

“Niall,” he pleaded.

As the doors closed, Niall mouthed, “You know where to find me.”

But Zayn could hear him as loud as the shutting doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looks like i am baaaaaaack to late updates but iM BAAACK... & now that niall & zayn are sort of on the same page.... who knows? love me a fighting match though
> 
> KUDOS & APPRECIATION are highly appreciated ☻  
> tutu sons !!


	22. Eid Mubarak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry pays a visit to Niall.

****

> **Right now I’m having amnesia and déjà vu at the same time. I think I’ve forgotten this before.  
>    ~ Steven Wright **

         It was Eid al-Fitr, everyone knew that, and celebrations were taking place all over the UK, and other parts of the blue and green earth. Niall was not to be partaking in said celebration, despite being invited by various members of Zayn’s family. He knew Eleanor, Liam, and Harry would be attending, as well as his Ma and her fiancée. He supposed they would represent him at the festivities enough, but he knew it would not be enough.

He did drive towards Bradford, but he was heading to Doncaster. Specifically, heading to the main Doncaster hospice for the elderly. Niall was surprised, too, when he, through a call to Louis’ sister, Lottie, learnt that Johannah was not, in fact, at the hospital being treated for blood cancer but at a hospital for those suffering from Alzheimer’s.

At the hospice, he lied that he was a son to Johannah, step-brother to the famous Louis Tomlinson, and with a call to Lottie, he was told to wait until he was called upon.

So he brought his phone out and Googled Alzheimer’s disease as his friends celebrated Eid an hour away from where he was. 

_Alzheimer’s is a progressive, fatal disease that eventually affects most, if not all, of the brain’s functions… The disease kills brain cells, beginning in the hippocampus and steadily advancing into other areas of the brain… different brain functions are lost or impaired._

Niall looked up from his phone to breathe and process. Google was a bitch, sometimes, he thought, but Alzheimer’s disease was an asshole. Or better yet, whoever-the-fuck was this disease named after!

_Dr Alois Alzheimer first identified the disease in 1906…_

Niall gasped in the waiting area. 1906? That was over 100 years ago and there still was not a cure for this disease? He scrolled down to look at the images that compared brains with Alzheimer’s disease and others without. The one with the disease showed the brain having shrunk while the normal brain looked, well, like a normal brain. It was as if parts of your brain simply disappeared, parts of you vanished as if they never existed in the first place.

So, he thought as he opened a new link on stages of Alzheimer’s, the disease was named after a man named _Alois_? What kind of shit name was that? As the Google results loaded, he was struck with the question of why Louis kept this a secret? He only knew that Louis’ mother had leukaemia, more specifically Rai Stage III chronic lymphocytic leukaemia, but not Alzheimer’s. Granted, him and Louis were on thin ice but if Louis wanted help, any help, he would not hesitate to help him.

It looked as if there were three stages of Alzheimer’s. The first was the early stage which lasted up to four years. The second stage, or the moderate stage, lasted up to a decade while the last stage, the severe stage, lasted for three years.

“Niall Tomlinson, she’s ready for you,” one of the nurses called him and he followed her to where Johannah’s room was. “Is this your first time here, Mr Tomlinson?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve not found time to see my mother,” said Niall, trying to instill regret into his voice.

“It’s alright,” she said, as if she had heard all these excuses before. “They’re always here if you ever need them.”

“What are they like? Those with Alzheimer’s?” he inquired when the nurse stopped before a light blue door.

“It feels as if all their stars fell out of the sky. You try to glue a star to the sky, stays for a second or nine, then it falls off.” She spared him a sad smile. “Take the time you need, a nurse will be back in a few minutes to bring her medication.”

Niall nodded in her direction. He slowly opened the door and was starkly surprised. He was thinking it would be white walls, a cold bed and some pale curtains. No such things met him.

The wall was a deep orange shade, covered in photos of her family, of her husband, Louis, Lottie, her newborn twins, scenic photos such as snowy mountains and chateaus. The bed looked cozy, like what one would have at home, with far too many pillows that had letters inscribed on them. There was a circular table off by the window where Johannah was sat knitting. Briefly, he remembered he should remind Eleanor of their knitting session this Wednesday.

He observed closely, as he slowly shut the door behind him, the letters on the pillows were of her children.

“Hi, Johannah,” he greeted as he walked towards where she was sat. “I’m Niall.”

“Call me Jay,” she responded, her Doncaster accent not as strong as Louis’. “Sit, sit, don’t stand there like a lamp post.” Niall chuckled as he sat. “Have we met before?”

“No,” he shook his head and did not know why he lied. “I’m a friend of Lottie’s.”

Recognition swept across her face. “My first daughter. Are you her boyfriend?”

“No, I’m a singer.”

“Really? I wish I had a child who could sing. Phoebe can but she only wants to sing in the choir,” she said as she resumed her knitting. “I think she should go for the X Factor but she doesn’t want to.”

“She has a wonderful voice.”

“What type of songs do you sing?”

“Pop. But sometimes I don’t know,” he found himself admitting. “Sometimes I feel as if I’m Rock, Alternative, Blues, at times Techno but.” He was shaking his head, a silly smile on his face. “There’re times I know I’m R&B, then Mellow, maybe I could be Country, House, Folk… all the genres but… I have to choose one.”

“Why do you have to choose?” she asked, her voice sounding nonchalant to Niall’s ears.

“It’s part of the rules.”

“What happened to your hand?” she gasped, taking his right hand and pulling it towards her. Near his elbow there was a fading grey scar from when he was reconstructing and re-decorating his guest house.

“Accidental scratch.”

“I used to be a nurse.”

“Really?” he inquired.

She nodded as she trailed her ring finger across his scar. “Do you know why bruises change color?” He shook his head, his hand still stretched across the table, her knitting long forgotten. “When blood vessels burst, hemoglobin leaks into the layers of your skin to clean it all up, then your body sends white blood cells to break down the iron, and other proteins. As the iron is digested, the color changes from red to blue.”

“Cool.”

“I’m sorry… but have we met before?”

Niall was stunned. One minute they were talking about blood facts and her being a nurse and the next she could not recognize him, at all. As Niall re-introduced himself, he was wondering at what stage Johannah was with her Alzheimer’s.  Stage Five? Six? Four, maybe?

“Niall,” she said, testing the word on her tongue. “Are you Irish?”

Niall nodded, smiling. “Yes, I am.”

“Where from?”

He beamed at her. “It’s magical. I’m from a small town called Mullingar in Westmeath County.”

“Where is that?”

“Ireland.”

“Where is Ireland?... Is it near Doncaster?” she inquired. Niall could see her struggling with the knowledge inside her brain, of placing Ireland and Yorkshire, of wondering if it were the same place or in far corners of the Earth and if one needed a 14-hour flight plane to get to the other city.

“Close.”

She suddenly leaned in and Niall automatically leaned forward as well. “Those people out there say I have a disease.”

He mocked surprise. “Which one?”

She swallowed and blinked very fast. Her face was befuddled, as Niall could see her working her brain in remembering what the disease was. “It’s… it’s on the tip of my tongue,” she sounded defeated.

“Cancer,” he supplied.

She patted him on his arm. “Yes,” she said, bright. Niall sheepishly smiled as he was sure most people would not be this happy to know they have cancer. “I have cancer.” Then it hit him that she was beaming because she knew what was ailing her. “Blood cancer. Bit ironic, that.”

“Why?”

“Did you know I was a nurse?”

It was on speed dial to say, “Yes, I do,” but his mouth froze. He simply looked at her and he saw it. He _witnessed_ it. He did not think it was possible but he did. He saw the moment when all traces of him left her, washed away like water on a windscreen, and it was a clean blank page, once again.

“I’ll never finish this!” she huffed as she threw her knitting to the side.

“Do you not like knitting?”

She bowed her head. “I feel knackered, constantly. Exhausted. I have constant back aches and no matter how much I sleep, I still feel knackered. Sometimes I get unusual bleeding. Just the other day I cutting tomatoes for when Jack would get home from work and I cut my finger and I bled and bled and bled, it was as if it never stopped.”

As he was wondering who Jack was to Johannah, he asked, “Did you go to the hospital?”

She chuckled. “No need, I’m a nurse, did you know?”

He shook his head.

“Can I tell you an interesting fact about blood?”

“Sure.”

“Do you know why bruises change color?”

Niall shook his head, again.

“When blood vessels burst, hemoglobin leaks under the layers of your skin to clean it up and, as your body sends a cluster of white blood cells to break down the proteins, the color changes from blue as they’re being digested.”

A wave of sympathy washed over him, it came slow to him as she explained the process again. He wondered what it was like to lose yourself, lose parts of yourself day by day by day. You would never know if you would get those parts back, some parts one experienced for the last time and others faded over time, like the brain was a folder and one by one its contents were being deleted.

“That’s cool.”

She excitedly slapped his hand. “Of course it is, Boobear. I’m still cool, a woman of her twenties.”

He wanted to tell her he was not ‘Boobear’, he was not her Louis, even if he lied he was her son. He was not who she thought he was. Just like herself.

“Did you remember to pick Jack’s suit from the dry cleaners?” she asked, resuming her knitting. “He’ll be angry if he doesn’t wear his blue suit for work tomorrow. He’s got an important interview tomorrow and he needs it, we all need it. Money is tight.”

 He had been wondering who this Jack guy was, who was Jack in her new mind, and… and it had to be Louis’ stepfather, Dan. Dan was Jack, and Boobear was him.

“You need to look for a new place to work, Louis, no more lazing around the house. Your sister Charlotte works much harder than you and she is only 13!”

“I got a job at Tesco.”

“Good,” she said not looking up from her knitting.

He let her knit, leaning back against the chair. He wondered if the photographs on the wall mattered, if the letters on the pillow mattered _enough_ , if the constant visits from people familiar to her mattered anymore, the moment they shut the door, they would be gone from her. But that was what caring was all about, wasn’t it? Loving the other person, wholeheartedly.

 Embarrassingly, he thought of _The Notebook_ in the moment. The entire plot of the movie, in fact. It was one man constantly reminding his Alzheimer’s-stricken wife of their love story, of herself, and even if she would forget, he never did stop reminding her. Something about her falling over and over and over in love with him that made it worthwhile.

“Who are you?”

“Me name’s Niall,” he answered, exaggerating on his Irish accent.

“Irish?” she inquired in a defiant tone. He nodded. “Does your mother know you’re out late? It’ll be dark soon, you should head home.”

“Me father’s pickin’ me up instead,” he told her.

“How is he?”

“He’s great,” he answered, feeling itchy underneath his skin.

“You should go visit him,” she said, as if cautioning him. She paused her knitting. “He won’t be around for much longer.”

“He died,” he had intended to say, ‘He left,’ but his mouth spoke faster than his filtering processes. He felt a little guilty for killing Bobby in his head but that was what Bobby meant to him, he left therefore he was dead to him.

“My father died too,” she said as a matter of fact. She put her knitting aside and propped her elbows on the table. “Cancer got him. Worst pain we went through.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

She waved a hand his way. “Leukaemia. Doctors say it runs in the family. Only a matter of time before it gets to me. That’s why I became a nurse.”

“You’re a nurse?”

“12 years a nurse. Louis, my third born, sometimes says that I am qualified enough to be a doctor now,” she smiled and Niall wondered if she had the memory of Louis saying those words or just of _a_ Louis. “Do you want to hear an interesting fact about bruises but my son keeps saying it’s not that interesting?”

“I’d love to.” he leaned forward.

“Do you know why bruises change color?” she asked with a glitter in her eyes. He shook his head. “When blood vessels rupture, red blood cells leak into the layers of your skin to clean it, and at the same time your body sends bands of white blood cells to break down the iron, and other  proteins which are digested, and _voila!_ the color changes from red to blue.”

“That’s so cool,” he awed. “I could never become a doctor.”

“Why not?”

“Scared of needles,” he blushingly chuckles.

She cocked her head to one side. “I feel like we’ve met before?”

“I’m a friend of Louis,” he told her gingerly and his heart leaped to his mouth when her son’s name did not ring a bell in her mind, so he added, “who is your son.”

“I don’t have a son.” She was frowning and for a second Niall wondered if she would ever remember Louis again.

“His name is Louis Tomlinson.”

“Tomlinson?” she questioned and he nodded in assurance. “I don’t know a Tomlinson. My name is Johannah Deakin and I’m married to Albert Deakin.” She pointed to a photo at the wall near the curtains. “That’s our wedding.”

Niall looked up at the photo hung on the wall. A memory, just a memory. He knew the importance of photographs (he has been taking photography online courses and will be graduating in a couple of weeks) and each importance varied amongst people. To Johannah, they were a trigger, something to jump start her shrinking brain. Discreetly looking at Johannah fondly gazing at the photograph, he knew the numerous photographs hung on the walls did their magic, and other times did not.

“They say I have Alzheimer’s,” she whispered, as if sharing a secret with him. “One day, they said, these photographs will mean nothing to me.”

Was this the real Johannah? Or was she a fragment of herself? For the first time Niall could hear the fear in her voice and he did not blame her. He supposed he too would be fearful of forgetting those he cared for, of forgetting where Home was, of forgetting himself and, before the eyes of those who cared for him, become a shell of himself.

“… that one day I will not know my dear Albert, my strong Charlotte, my adorable Phoebe, my little Dorcas… me, I will not remember myself. But I’ll never forget. My brain is strong, I know it,” she nodded mostly to herself. She took the photo off the wall and held it between her hands. “I will not forget.”

Niall did not have the heart to tell her that she was already forgetting, memories were being swept away and she did not know it. It was odd, he thought, that how the memories were leaving her. Not all at once, which he does not know if it would be a better idea, but it slow successions of separations.

He thought of all the times when Louis or Fizzy or even Dan, would sit with Jay right here in her ‘Home.’ They would talk to her, have a normal conversation, but it would not be the same. One moment Jay was here, and then she would be gone, again, each time she was gone, she would be further from their reach. Probably the saddest part was they could not follow her to wherever she went, but would be waiting for her, even if she came back a different person.

That person was gone, the one sitting before you had left, which was Niall’s biggest fear. His worst fear was abandonment. He cannot imagine what it would be like if his own Ma was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. His Ma would leave him and while Bobby, Holly, Zayn (after March 2015), his friends along the years, all left him, it would not be the same if his Ma asked him, ‘I’m sorry, who are you?’ and he would say, ‘Niall, your son.’ and he would painfully watch her look up at the ceiling, trying as hard as she could to recall a ‘Niall’ in her life.

He swallowed a sob and exhaled through his mouth.

“Excuse me, but are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am.” He sniffed. “Just thinking of my mother.”

“I have one child, his name is Louis,” she said, the photograph in her hand long forgotten and instead replaced with a fond memory of Louis. “A hyper child, he is. Can never stand still.” She looked at him intently, as if studying him. “Do you know my son?”

“No,” he lied.

“You’ll meet him soon. He’s gone out to get the milk for tea. You’re staying for tea aren’t you, Harry?”

Yes, Johannah left, not every day but every moment, she was gone. She would come back but in bits and pieces. Bits and pieces that faded as Alzheimer’s got to the last stages. Agonizingly, there would come a time when Johannah would not have anything to bring, she would be a mannequin in front of those she cared about. A body without a soul. Like a blackboard with its words being erased. New words would be added, but Alzheimer’s erases them, stubbornly, like an obsessively compulsive cleaner, always wiping the blackboard clean.

“I love tea,” he told her, with a thin smile.

“Harry?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know why bruises change color?”

“No. Why do they?”

“When blood vessels burst from an injury or summat, hemoglobin leaks into the layers of your skin to clean it all up and body sends clusters of white blood cells to break down iron and protein, the color changes.”

“From red to blue.”

She mischievously winked, sometimes like Louis. “Exactly!”

“You learn something new every day.”

 

**~       ~       *       ~       ~**

“Of all the places to shoot your new music video for _Human_ I didn’t think South Korea would be one.”

“Full of surprises, I am,” he winked Eleanor’s way. They were seated at their Gate at Dubai International Airport  awaiting their connecting flight to Seoul.

“Are you going to tell me why you didn’t come to Zayn’s for Eid?”

Niall sighed. He knew he would eventually have to explain himself. “I went to Doncaster.”

Eleanor frowned. “Why?”

“I was driving, honestly heading to Bradford, but I couldn’t go? I reached Doncaster and called Lottie asking if Louis was around—”

“Why were you seeing him?”

“I wanted to know where he was so that we wouldn’t bump into each other,” he clarified. “She said he was in London so I went to the Doncaster hospice where Johannah is.”

Eleanor frowned in confusion. “What is she doing there? I thought she was in the hospital…  That’s what Liam said.”

“She has Alzheimer’s.”

Eleanor’s jaw hanged. “No! Really?”

Niall nodded, looking down at his lap. “Yeah, she does. She sometimes doesn’t remember her children, mistakes their names, forgets some of them, others she remembers.” He suddenly turned to her. “She thought I was Louis.”

Eleanor snorted. “You? You look nothing like him.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly. “I don’t think it’s about your appearance but her brain placing faces and names and memories fails her. Everything slowly gets lost because your brain has holes in it.”

“Holes?”

“I didn’t really understand the nurse when she explained it,” he admitted. “She was using too much jargon so I went on Google.”

“Is she okay?”

“Apart from…” he made a vague circular gesture with his hand, “she is fine. Sometimes she forgets she has blood cancer.”

“How—Nevermind. Alzheimer’s makes her forget.”

“The nurse told me something horrible.”

Eleanor cupped Niall’s hand. “What?”

“You know how—wait, you don’t. Anyway, sometime last year Johannah was told her cancer was gone but early this year they said it returned and she had to go through aggressive treatment, which she is currently undergoing.”

“That is horrible, Nini.”

“That’s not it, El. Lottie was telling me they didn’t know she had Alzheimer’s until May and its making her cancer spread,” he ran his hand through his hair. “She’s not going to make it to the end of the year.”

Eleanor whacked the back of his head. “Don’t say such things. Spit it out, Niall!”

“It’s true. Her Alzheimer’s is making her cancer treatment ineffective which then spreads the cancer around. She has chronic leukaemia. Stage 3, El. She’s not going to—”

“Stop that! You’re prophesying her future. You don’t know God’s plans!”

He shielded his head and face from her whacking him. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

“Liam did tell us that she is on aggressive form of treatment but he didn’t mention the Alzheimer’s.”

“I think it’s only Harry who knows.”

“How do you know that?”

“Johannah thought I was Harry,” he had a sad smile on his face as he said it. “What do you mean Liam told you?”

“Well, you did skip Eid.” She pointedly looked at him. He rolled his eyes and asked how Eid al-Fitr was at the Maliks. “Fantastic. Literally lasted for two days, basically.”

“How?”

“Well, the day you lied you would meet us in Bradford, we went and Zayn asked where you were and I said you were right behind us. M came early.”

“She did?” he inquired, surprised. His Ma was constantly late for everything, never on time, so to hear she was early for Eid was surprising. “Did Chris come?”

“Of course.”

“How was he?” he asked, voice low. Eleanor looked to him then at the couple sat opposite them talking hurriedly in hushed tones.

“He missed you. Really missed you.”

Niall made a noncommittal hum.

“Why did you two fight?”

Niall made a quick shrug of the shoulder. “Who the fuck knows? I had to go to the hospital for how hard he punched by chest.”

Eleanor nodded, more to herself. She opted to tell him how the celebrations went instead of questioning why Zayn punched his chest.

In attendance was Harry, Liam, and herself, and including Zayn and Hadiyya, and they had a riot. They danced until their feet were sore, ate until they threw their belts and unbuttoned their trousers, drunk to their fill so much that Eleanor, yes Eleanor, held Harry’s hair as he threw up in the corner of the Malik’s backyard. Eid continued late into the night, or morning, and the party was heading for bed at around 7 o’clock in the morning.

Up and early (or if noon was early), Eleanor, who dragged the rest awake (Zayn swatted her hand and dozed off but not Harry and Liam), into the backyard where Zayn’s sisters and several cousins were cleaning last night’s celebrations. As they were cleaning, Liam was the buffer between Eleanor and Harry, just like before Niall was the buffer between himself and Eleanor. It was a little strange, as Eleanor was quickly filling the trash can with bottles of beer, soda, wine, everything, that they used to all be jolly and no awkward moments but here they were, in the Malik’s backyard, barely saying a word to each other save from, ‘Pass the trash bag, will you?’

The younger members of the Malik family went out that night – Eleanor, Liam and Harry tagging along. The jumped from club to club, pub after another, and it did not seem to stop.

“It’s Eid,” Niall reminded Eleanor as she was narrating the second night of the festive holiday.

Zayn was getting drunker and drunker deeper into the night, Jawaad and the sisters and nieces and nephews and cousins and the rest of the family did not find it odd but Liam and Harry were finding it eye opening—so was Niall as he listened to Eleanor narrate the nightly events.

They found a house party on some corner of some street somewhere not quite in Bradford but somehow still in Bradford (Eleanor learned not to trust Liam’s sense of direction).

Niall chuckled. “How’s that possible?”

“I’m thinking Liam’s GPS was broken,” Eleanor said, a smile playing on her lips.

Despite saying he had quit, Zayn rolled up one blunt, two, four, until it got to the point where Eleanor could not tell if it was a cigarette or blunt in his hand. She was getting to the smashed point, so was Harry, Zayn was well over it so that left Liam to sort of look after everyone. Harry was a cuddly drunk and therefore Liam was not too worried about him as he was glued like a koala to Azra, Zayn’s cousin. For Eleanor, he replaced her tot glasses with water and she drowned nearly 10 of them, stating she was done for the night.

“How could you not notice?” laughed Niall. “That’s Liam’s signature style in trying to get someone sober.”

“Really?” Eleanor looked genuinely surprised. “I thought I was drinking vodka. And anyway, I was smashed, alright?”

When a somewhat sobering Eleanor, cuddly-drunk Harry and painfully sober Liam found Zayn, he was inside a fading orange tent outside in the backyard of the house party they gatecrashed. Inside, everyone looked sleepy as if ready to pass out and then there was Zayn, hand clutching his hair painfully and the butt of the cigarette/blunt dangerously close to his hair that Harry aloud, said, “Something’s burning!” and fell on Liam’s lap and curled into a ball.

Immediately Eleanor took the shisha pipe from Zayn’s hand and began smoking herself as Harry, who got off Liam’s lap and began chatting with a dreadlocked, long-legged man Liam was sure was too high to speak.

“Why did you take the shisha away from him?” wondered Niall.

“He was too high, probably smoked through five packets of cigarettes and smoking shisha is supposed to be worse, innit?”

“He smokes excessively when stressed,” he said as if reading Did-You-Know facts about Zayn.

It looked as if Zayn was not quite high as they thought but he was drunk, too drunk to not even stand up with Liam’s help. And also, he wanted to remain inside the tent seeing as it was warm.

“And it went downhill from there, I guess.”

“How?” asked Niall, curiosity getting ahead of him. Briefly, he looked to see that they would be boarding the flight to Seoul less than 15 minutes.

Turned out Zayn missed Niall. Truly. He announced to all those in tent, not just Liam, Harry and Eleanor, that he missed Niall. Who was Niall? One asked. Niall was his best friend, his companion, his song-writing buddy, brother, his partner-in-crime, pal, his Slytherin friend… he went on with the list, listing Niall different things he was to him, different situations, but what none of them saw coming, what even stopped Harry mid-conversation, was that Niall was more than a best friend to him.

“Friends forever?” Niall tried with a sly smile on his lips.

“Why aren’t you surprised?” Eleanor was looking at him suspiciously. She expected him to be surprised but here was Niall… not surprised.

“I sorta had a hunch,” he tried then exhaled. “He said that.” he stopped his sentence to gnaw on his lips, the words physically hard to utter them in the light of day. “If we even had a chance… at whatever,” his cheeks turned a deep red, “he’d constantly be worried.”

Eleanor could count the number of times when Niall never had his head held high. She could count them on one hand. And that one hand was full today when Niall held his head down, looking defeated and deflated and… it was not Niall. Not at all. Eleanor, even if she was drunk, had wanted to punch some common sense into Zayn after he explained what happened in his sister’s apartment.

“Why?”

“He’s so deep into himself, so. He’s constantly picking at himself, always, that he doesn’t get the time to breathe.” Niall abruptly shook his head, then laid it on his right hand. “He can’t be happy because he doesn’t think he deserves it.”

“But he does like you more than a friend. So much. Like you, I might add.” She winked at him and Niall bit down on his lip to stop looking too happy. “I think Harry was the only one not to notice it.” Eleanor chuckled, more to herself. “Liam kept saying, ‘I knew it!’ the whole time.”

“I should call him.”

“Zayn’s not that angry over you messing his house, just in case that’s the reason you didn’t come for Eid.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why didn’t you come?”

Niall never did answer, what with their Gate opening and them heading towards their plane. Once inside, Niall put on his headphones and shut any questions Eleanor wanted to ask. Touchdown in Seoul, hours later, Niall blacked out as soon as his head hit the pillow in his Hilton hotel bed. Eleanor never did ask him again about it and Niall was eternally grateful.

The following couple of days saw Niall, Eleanor, his A&R and the Video department for Capitol working on his music video for his second single, _Human_. Niall wanted a lyrical video, just like _This Town_ , but in this instance, he wanted shots of his life put on film and it would be of his time in Seoul with his best friend-slash-sister, Eleanor.

During the days when he was filming, he tried hard to keep Zayn out, out, out but when Zayn was constantly on his mind and phone _and_ life, it was hard. Very.

He was constantly receiving his texts, innocent good morning texts, _goodnight Niall_ , _happy afternoon (:_ , which advanced to asking how is day was, was he eating healthy?, how his music video was going on? (something he knew Eleanor told him about) and to have a brilliant day, Inshallah.

There were collections of Snaps that he sent to Niall, and only Niall, it started feeling as if he was only on Snapchat for Niall. Flattered, not so much because Zayn’s selfie game was on-point but because he found himself taking screenshots, not caring Zayn would know he was taking screenshots (and not replying to him), of his photos. Do not blame him, these were so much better than the ones he posts on Instagram.

However, when it got to Twitter, it was hard not to ignore him like he had been doing on other social media networks.

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_In all this bitterness you stay so sweet._

Had Liam not RT’d the tweet, same for Harry (a shocker to not only him but the Twittersphere despite the thawing relationship between Zayn and Harry) who included red hearts all over which Liam RT’d as well and immediately after, RT’d a Ziall account, he would have thought it was about someone else.

He opened up Google and typed Zayn’s tweet. He was searching for the song, searching up and down, even going on Page 5 on Google but no song came up. None at all.   


**Harry Styles. @HarryStylinson  
** _@zaynmalik THIS IS ADORABLE!!_

**zayn @zaynmalik**  
_@HarryStylinson ahaha thanks Harry (:_

 **Liam @LiamPayneCFC**  
_@zaynmalik @HarryStylinson I Think Directioners Agree ;]_  
  


Niall rolled his eyes. Harry was a huge hopeless romantic and he was starting to think Liam was a closeted romantic. Or becoming one from spending all his time with Harry now that he was spending a good chunk of his time in London filming _Beauty and the Beast_.

Just like before, Niall would lock his phone and resume filming his music video. The calls came in, not from Zayn (Niall suspected he knew Niall would not answer his phone calls) but from Jawaad (he joked that he finally found money to call him to which Jawaad cut the phone and resumed talking to him on WhatsApp), Hadiyya, Doniya, even his mother, more cousins and others Niall never properly learned their names. Rather, their names never stuck to faces so he did not bother knowing who was who.

He was exhausted on Day 6 of filming that he did not want to go out with Eleanor and the crew in the nightlife of Seoul – choosing instead to explore South Korean television programmes with Guinness in his left hand and a classic Kimchi Stew.

He was an hour and a half into some Korean soap opera, that was actually quite interesting, when there was a ding from his new Samsung phone. Still watching the soap opera, he unlocked his phone and saw there were several messages from Zayn. Actual messages, not WhatsApp messages or Twitter ones.

 **NIAZ:** I know you are mad, or angry, or sad at me, or disgusted by me but please talk to me. Anything.

Turned out he had several from Zayn. Looked like the drama happening on TV was so good he did not hear his phone.

 **NIAZ:** Even if it is just insulting me, I will take it.

 **NIAZ:** I am only human, I make mistakes, yes, yes, I am quoting your song but maybe you will talk to me ? Eventually ?

 **NIAZ:** I do not know what I did to make you fly off to another continent, over several hours away

 **NIAZ:** It is not right when YOU ARE not smiling, Niall. It is not right when you are not laughing, or chuckling, or snorting, or simply having the light shine out of your blue eyes, it is not right when it is anything but.

 **NIAZ:** It is in your nature to constantly have a smile because you are sweet even when the fucking world is bitter to you, you are a beam of sunshine wherever you go & I love that about you Niall.

 **NIAZ:** I do not know why the moon fell in love with the sun ):

If Niall’s heart ached as he re-read this particular text, then… he will admit it. It did make him cower and a grey cloud hang above his head and shower on his hair.

 **NIAZ:** I want to make you happy, if that is alright with you?

 **NIAZ:** I do not know where to begin.

In his whirlwind of emotions, Niall, now, had a large smile on his face as he re-read Zayn’s texts (skipping the moon-falling-for-the-sun text unless he wanted to mop the entire night), despite everything, Zayn managed to always put a smile on his face. He always affected him even when Niall did not want to. He sipped his Guinness as he went on WhatsApp and clicked on Zayn’s name, his icon a photo of Malfoy, the kitten he gifted Zayn.

 **NIALL:** I’m watching Emergency Couple, a really popular Korean soap opera that’s getting intense !

Zayn was not online (it was not like Niall was hoping he would be) so he texted Eleanor, telling her to be safe and that he would be waiting for her, despite her telling (read: demanding) him to go to bed at a reasonable hour.

He resumed watching his enthralling soap opera, at the same time ordering the infamous Hilton room service, ordering more South Korean cuisines. His phone dinged and he has never in his entire life, grabbed his phone and checked his messages. Disappointed flooded him when it was just Harry.

 **HARRY:** Which Hilton hotel are you staying at?

He scoffed at his phone. Was he _that_ predictable?

 **NIALL:** Am I that predictable? I could be staying at the Intercontinental.

 **HARRY:** Yeah, right. Where are you staying? :)

 **NIALL:** Hilton just outside Seoul. How did U know I was here?

 **HARRY:** Everyone knows you’re in SK.

Niall rolled his eyes, knowing it was all Eleanor. And probably Hadiyya. It was only when the soap opera ended on a huge suspense that did it click he was not friends with Harry. Childish as it sounded, Harry did pause their friendship after People’s Choice where he failed to mention his boyfriend being part of One Direction in his acceptance speech.

His phone buzzed yet again, and several more buzzes indicating someone was on a texting frenzy. It was Zayn. His heart flip flopped in pleasure and his cheeks tinged a pink color. It was him emoji vomiting surprising that Niall replied his message, then asking why he was on WhatsApp, and then asking if he can call him. He replied on WhatsApp.

 **NIALL:** No.

 **NIAZ:** It is okay. Just hoping.

 **NIALL:** Are U telling everyone I’m in SK?

 **NIAZ:** I knew from 1D update accounts. Why?

Oh. Nevermind then, he thought as the chewed on his food. Perhaps it was not Eleanor but Twitter itself that told both Zayn and Harry where he was.

 **NIALL:** Just wondering.

 **NIAZ:** How is the soap opera going?

 **NIALL:** Ended on a suspense. I think she’s going to choose her career over the guy she loves.

 **NIAZ:** (: Sounds like some Bollywood movies I know.

 **NIALL:** I’m feeling sleepy..

Niall did not want to sound like a cunt, but he really, really could not fathom speaking to Zayn without replaying the scenes back in Doniya’s apartment and over the fact that his ribs felt like they were pressing into his lungs.

 **NIAZ:** Please tell me where to start, Niall. Just tell me where and we will go from there.

 **NIAZ:** I have nothing at this point, Niall. Please understand.

 **NIAZ:** Even passive aggressive tweets, I will handle. ANYTHING!

Alright. Niall could do passive aggressive. He was a bit of an expert at using lyrics, quotes and one-liners to be passive aggressive to people over social media and for some reason, or strokes of luck, the people he was targeting always seemed to know it was them Niall was hinting at. Huh.  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_U turned out to be the best thing I never had_  
& I’m gonna always be the best thing U never had  
  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_In the darkest night hour_  
I’ll search through the crowd  
  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_Lord knows it would take another place, another time, another world, another life_  
  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_UR face is all I see_  
I’ll give U everything  
Baby, love me lights out.  
  


**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I used to want U so bad  
I’m so through with that_

Zayn was not to remain silent, tweeted his own lyrics, but not Beyoncé’s.

 **zayn @zaynmalik**  
_You’re gonna miss me by hair_  
You’re gonna miss me everywhere, oh  
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone  
  


“Fuck you, Niaz Kilam!” he yelled at his phone, then quieter as he read the lyrics for the fourteenth time, “Fuck you.”

 **~      ~      *      ~      ~**  
  


****

“You’re a cock!”

Niall blinked. On the other end of the his Hilton hotel door was a fuming, towering Harry who had his hair in a frenzy as if he had been combing it with his fingers for hours, his swallow tattoos visible, not forgetting more of his chest and his signature, ripped-at-the-knees skinnies. But that was not what sent Niall keeling over in laughter. It was how utterly serious he looked and for calling him a _cock_ , as if it were the biggest insult on this green and blue earth. He was Irish after all.

“Why are you laughing, Niall?” Harry huffed, annoyed, combing his hand through his hair. “I’m being serious here.”

“Come in, come in,” Niall motioned for him to enter. As he turned, he found Harry scrolling down his phone and it being shoved into his face. “What am I looking at?”

Reading his phone, Harry read aloud, “ _I used to want you so bad / I’m so through with that”_ He looked pointedly at Niall. “The hell does this mean?”

“It means I love Beyoncé.”

Harry scoffed. “Bullshit. It looks like you have bipolar disorder. One minute you’re tweeting happy love songs, then the next you’re bitter like you got dumped by the love of your life.”

“I love Beyoncé,” he repeated. He pushed past Harry and into the main area of his Presidential Suite. “Hey, wait a minute,” he paused, turning around to find Harry following him, “Didn’t you put a pause on our friendship?”

Harry raised an eyebrow like it was the most ridiculous thing Niall has ever said. “You’re joking, right? Be serious, for a moment, Niall.”

“I am. Always have been.”

“Then why the hell are you being passive aggressive to him? He doesn’t deserve this shit.”

“I don’t deserve his crap.”

“No!” Harry roared and Niall started. “He was bloody right when he said that you live in your head. But _I_ mean it for a different reason. You spend so much time fantasizing, create worlds in your blond head and not actually living out of your head.”

Niall frowned, crossing his arms on his chest. He would not be defensive, he would not be defensive, absolutely not now.

“Why not, for once, did you not stop to think why Zayn is acting the way he is? Why he won’t jump into your pants the first chance he gets?” Niall spluttered but Harry was ploughing through. “It’s because he goddamn scared. He’s worried, scared and you quoting dumb Beyoncé songs is not helping his situation.”

Niall wanted to protest that _no, Beyoncé songs were not dumb_ but then he would get the raised-eyebrow look and he did not want that right now. Besides, he was working on not being a defensive cock.

“Why would he be worried?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that he would be gay, for one. Two, he would come out to his family, his friends, his dad who, by the way, is homophobic he just doesn’t show it as much because it never came up, but Zayn knows it and I could feel it when we went to his place for Eid which, by the way, you’re a cock for not coming.”

Niall’s eyes popped open. Yaser was homophobic? But he never seemed so. Now that Niall really thought about it, he never saw much of Yaser, actually, just… everyone else but not him. Not Zayn’s father. He also did not speak to him often, oddly enough, and to this day he had never questioned why.

“He told you why he was scared of being with you. It’s not a question of whether he does or not, which you should count lucky, but if he should.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” he questioned. So much for not being defensive. “He would be with Liam if he wanted in a heartbeat.”

Harry looked taken aback. “Liam? What does he have to do with anything?”

“He kissed him.”

“He bloody kissed you at some house party you two went to together, okay?” Harry told him, voice rising. “And—and the Liam kiss happened a long time ago.”

“Was—”

“Fucking cock, you are!” Harry burst, again, flipping his arms around. This time Niall was not laughing at the insult. “You’ve pushed Zayn into a corner, given him an ultimatum: be with me or you’re gone for good. That’s not bloody fair to him, not at all. And just when he was getting us back one by one, here you are putting conditions for him to remain in your life.”

“I WASN’T!” he cried, because really, that was not at all what he was doing to Zayn. Doubt crept into his brain and wondered if, that day when he went to Doniya’s house, it came of as an ultimatum to the Pakistani boy.

“It doesn’t matter what it looks like because what it feels takes over,” Harry said, returning to being calm.

“I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t _think_. The entire time during Eid he asked for you, kept asking when you’d be coming. Liam lied said you were stuck in traffic, Eleanor said you would come tomorrow, but I think he knew you weren’t going to show up the moment you weren’t in the car with us. He fucking cried in a club cause he didn’t know what to do anymore. He was defeated and trust me, that’s the worst feeling in the world.”

“I piled it on,” he said in an epiphany moment.

“What?”

“I piled it on, just like everyone in his life piles it on him and makes him feel shitty. I’m one of them.”

Now Harry was puzzled. “What do you mean ‘pile it on’?”

 “Has he been sleeping?” he asked, in a moment of panic. Just like Zayn excessively smoked when he was stressed, he never slept. He was sort of insomniac, staying up all night stressing and fixating, over what was wrong and how he could fix it to make it better. In the end he forgot about food and sleep, deeming them not important. Zayn forgot to take care of himself.

“Dunno.”

“Harry, has he been sleeping?” he demanded.

“Why doesn’t that matter?” Harry questioned back.

“It matters a shitload,” he cried, turning his back on Harry and going to search for his phone.

“Where are you going? We’re not done.” He stopped to grab Niall by the wrist and yanked him hard for Niall to turn around and face him. “He’s worried about the label of being gay. I’ve seen it in Louis so many times to spot it a mile away.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “It’s a dumb label.”

“Not in our world, Niall. To some people being gay is the worst thing to happen. It all depends with where and how you grew up and I don’t think where and how Zayn grew up were… accepting, if you know what I mean.”

Now it was Niall’s turn to comb his fingers through his hair. “Being gay shouldn’t be a big deal, H.”

“But that’s the thing, Ni,” said Harry. “I was drunk, sure, but at the party, he kept saying that he was wrong, too much was wrong with him and I didn’t think much of it but the next day it hit me that Zayn thinks being _gay_ is wrong; that’s what he thinks is wrong with him.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I know you know it, too, but you don’t know the extent of it. He tries, so hard, to be perfect, as if re-writing his wrongs all at once and being gay will just add those wrongs. I told him this, just before we left Bradford and you know what he said?” he questions and Niall, struck, shook his head. “He didn’t want to bring shame to his family. Not anymore.”

“What’s shameful about being gay?” he questioned, baffled by what his band mate was telling him.

Harry remained quiet, watching Niall through his eyelashes.

The Irish groaned into his hands. “And I left him all alone.”

“We were there,” Harry huffed somewhere to his left. “But.” Harry paused as he chewed on his bottom lip. “The truth is so hard Zayn can’t ignore it anymore. Or whatever your idol Troye sings.”

“ _YOUTH_ ,” Niall half-heartedly smiled up at Harry. “I never thought of it that way. Never thought what he was going through, what people would think of him. Maybe because it was easy for me? In a way?”

“Compared to the coming out stories I’ve been hearing, I think _we_ did have it easy.” Niall’s mouth gaped as a knowing smirk spread on Harry’s red lips. “When were you going to tell me you  came out?”

“Soon?” he sheepishly said. “I was, promise. But we-we weren’t friends, remember?”

Harry waves at him dismissively. “Come off it, Ni. Think we’re passed that now,” Harry grinned, then winked at him.

“He was there from the beginning, you know? When I kissed boys, became a thing for me, even before I told Eleanor, I told _him_. And he didn’t blink. Didn’t treat me differently. Didn’t flinch or some shit. He reassured me that gay was okay, I was okay, I wasn’t different because I like boys now— _oh fucking fuck_!”

“What?”

“He was always there and I’m here, across the world.”

“He’s going to be fine.”

“Why was I thinking about myself this whole time?”

“Hey, hey,” said Harry, holding his arms and palming them, “we’re all stuck in our heads once in a while we don’t notice others drowning.”

“He’s fucking drowning, Harry,” he cried to Harry’s chest. “And I’m here. He’s probably getting shit for all this.”

The thing with Zayn, he thought as a bubble of panic rose inside his lungs, was that he was similar to the white cotton stuff that one finds floating in the air. One would be walking down the street, or sitting on a bench in the park and this white cotton ball would float around you. You would definitely take note – how could you not? – look away for a second and find that it had disappeared. You would frantically search the air around you, the skies, and still not see it. It had disappeared.

This was Zayn. He would tend to wander off, such as going home to Bradford, or taking a one-week trip off to wherever, which would be fine, but if he wandered off for too long, he would get lost and not find his way. Niall’s heart leapt to his throat. What if Zayn was wandering now? Right this second? What if, because he looked away for a second, Zayn will float away into the skies and not come back?

Seeing Niall’s face blanch, Harry grasped his forearm, anchoring Niall’s slippery thoughts, and asked, “When do you want to leave?” Harry asked and Niall could almost kiss him right here. Almost. But he did anyway, on his cheek, though.

Everyone needed a Harry, for sure.

He called Eleanor telling her he had to leave A.S.A.P to find Zayn as he had to tell him something import—

Eleanor interrupted him there and then yelling at him that his Irish ass was going nowhere, they still had a couple of more scenes to shoot for his music video and he could not just up and leave anymore (not after the Vogue incident). Did he have a mental relapse over his conversation with Steve? Concerning not leaving his job to work on his personal life issues?

“Well?” Harry inquired, jumping on his toes as Niall cut the phone.

“Can’t,” he grumbled. “El’s going to kill me, right after Steve does.”

“Call him!” Harry suggested. Niall was already dialing Zayn’s number before Harry got the words out of his mouth. “Put it on loudspeaker.”

“Why?” he questioned, giving him the I-Don’t-Think-So look.

“Because you might be a cock!”

Niall rolled his eyes, mumbled under his breath, nevertheless he put his phone on loudspeaker. It rang, continuously rang, then Niall dialed his number again when it went off. It rang three times, five, seven, then hang itself.

“Maybe he’s busy. Or sleeping,” Harry said, worriedly looking at Niall’s Samsung. Niall pressed on the call button and Zayn picked on the second ring. “Yes!”

_Hello? Niall?_

Niall’s mouth gaped at his phone. Zayn answered! It was only when Harry pinched his arm that he blinked away from his reverie, scolding Harry, “That hurts!” and said hello to Zayn.

_Who were you talking to?_

“No one,” he said, giving Harry the stank eye. “Was talking to meself. You’re not sleeping are you?”

_It’s just about lunchtime here._

“Are you in London?” he questioned and Harry sent him the Talk-About-Something-Else look.

_Went back to L.A. I have an album to work on, remember?_

Once again he was pinched by Harry on his arm and he exclaimed. “Ow! Stop it!”

_Is that Calder?_

Harry made a silent mock offended face while Niall stifled a giggle behind his hand. “It’s… some Korean lady.” Harry leveled him with a look. “Who is hitting me.”

_Why?_

Harry mouthed, “What the hell?” and Niall made a vague hand gesture dismissing him. “I’m getting a foot rub.”

_Such a diva._

“I’m so sorry, Zayn.” It was a while before Zayn responded.

_It’s okay._

And that was all really. Between them it was simple, it had always been simple. But Niall knew he had to make up for all that he has been putting him through.

“When are you back home?” he asked, voice hopeful.

_You said I’d know where to find you._

Niall opened his mouth to—to say anything, really but he was tongue-tied. He looked up to find Harry intently looking back at him which grew serious as time passed.

_Niall?_

“Where will you be in two days?” he asked and squeezed his eyes shut. This was going horribly.

_Still in my penthouse in L.A. Why?_

It was on the tip of his tongue to say the words, “Don’t leave. I’m coming,” but they were stuck in his throat. Instead, he panicked and hung up the phone. Once again, he was pinched.

“Stop fucking pinching me! You’re the cock here.”

“Why did you hang up?” Harry demanded as if _he_ was the one Niall had hung up on.

“Panicked.”

Harry pressed two fingers to his temple and sighed, loudly and for long that Niall slapped his hand away from his temple. “No one panics in the face of true love.”

“What the…” he let his sentence peter out, not bothering with him anymore. “I can’t even deal anymore.”

Harry exhaled through his pink lips. “Good, because I’m beat.”

“What were you doing in Seoul anyway?” he questioned. He put his phone on the coffee table ending the Zayn part of their conversation. “Pretty sure _Beauty and the Beast_ doesn’t take place in SK,” he joked but Harry sent him a stern look. “What?”

“I had to kick some sense into you,” he told him indignantly. “You’re so stubborn sometimes.”

“I thought I was a cock.”

“A stubborn cock.”

Niall hummed, scratching his chin. “Dunno how I feel about that.”

“Hope you feel like a cock.”

“ _Stubborn_ cock, you mean,” he corrected, messing with Harry. He only felt the back of Harry’s ringed fingers on his temple a couple of seconds later as his response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> south korean food looks delicious, sons [: veeeeeeeeeeeerrry [: #foodgoals  
> i read a amnesia!ziall story and twas so beautiful i incorporated it in my own story, also to leave a little info about jay's life. i honestly pray none of you develop alzheimer's ]:
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly appreciated ☺ whatever they may be. take care sons ♦


	23. When Harry Met Sally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn takes Niall on their first date.

****

> **My heart’s against your chest, your lips pressed to my neck  
>  I’m  falling for our eyes, but they don’t know me yet   
>       ~ Ed Sheeran **

 

“You know what I miss about the old frozen yoghurt place we used to go to?”

Eleanor rolled her eyes as Liam glanced up from his frozen yoghurt cup between Niall and Eleanor, then back at Niall. “What old place?”

“Well, my dear friend, Payno, I’ll tell you all about it,” said Niall, darting glares to Eleanor who is  ignoring him by flamboyantly eating her frozen yoghurt. “There was this yoghurt place in the heart of London, right? We used to go there all the time, the place was one of the few that didn’t have _fake_ yoghurt.”

“Fake yoghurt?” wondered Liam.

Niall weakly shrugged. “The other frozen yoghurt places in the city somehow have fake yoghurt.”

“They don’t!”

“You’re just saying that because you never tasted the yoghurts,” Niall retorted.

“Isn’t that the point of frozen yoghurt?”

“She was busy tasting other things that weren’t on the menu.” Niall cocked an bold eyebrow Eleanor’s way. “So, anyway, each time Eleanor would flirt with the frozen yoghurt guy, they would date for a good five, six, seven days before they break up.”

“Not true!” Eleanor put her yoghurt down on the circular table. “I dated Mario for three weeks.”

“Because he gave us free frozen yoghurts… the large ones and you only dated him for an extra week because his parrot died and you didn’t think it’d be right to dump him.”

Liam choked on his cubed Mars bar. “You dated a guy with a parrot?”

“That’s what you focus on?” sputtered Niall. “We keep losing places to eat frozen yoghurt because Eleanor breaks up with the cute guys who work there.”

“This yoghurt isn’t bad.” Eleanor stuffs a large portion of frozen yoghurt into her mouth. “As delicious as where McKenzie worked.”

“Isn’t McKenzie a girl name?”

“Surname,” Niall supplied, chewing on gummy bears.

“And anyway, thanks to me, we found this amazing frozen yoghurt place.”

“Sure,” Niall drawled, “but you’ve been checking out that extra muscular, dark-skinned man behind the counter serving everyone—he looks like a black version of Thor.”

“Aren’t you dating Pep Guardiola?” Liam asked Eleanor.

“Technically we’re not dating.” Eleanor swallowed her strawberry. “He just got divorced.”

“How does that explain you and Pep?”

“He said he wanted to clear everything with his wife before we got serious.”

“The point is,” Niall brought back Liam and Eleanor’s attention,” El is going to go after black Thor and we’re not going to be eating at this place anytime soon.”

“I’m not dating black Thor!”

“Stop saying black Thor,” hissed Liam.

“But he looks like—” Niall’s sentence was cut short when none other than ‘black Thor’ approached their table with a tray of frozen yoghurt toppings.

“Afternoon,” he said, his voice rugged and smooth and chocolate and he might as well have been talking to Eleanor alone because he looked as if he was ignoring a curious Liam and a complaining Niall.

“What’s the tray for?” inquired Eleanor, squaring her bare shoulders and throwing her hair behind her left shoulder.

“These are our new toppings and we’re requested to ask the customers to try them out. On the house,” he added, winking at Eleanor.

“Thanks man.” Niall happily grabbed three tiny bowls toppings before Black Thor had finished his sentence and Eleanor had said her thank you’s.

“What would you recommend?”

Black Thor looked at her as he said, “I would recommend the chocolate.”

Niall grunted as Liam sneakily took the Oreo cookies topping bowl to add to his frozen yoghurt.”

Eleanor bit her bottom lip. “I love chocolate.”

“No, you don’t,” Niall piped in. “You love sprinkles.”

For the first time, Black Thor looked to Niall and politely asked if he wanted any.

“He doesn’t have a sweet tooth.”

Exaggeratedly, Niall put his arm around Eleanor’s shoulder and blew her a raspberry kiss. “Darling, you know I love all things sweet.”

Eleanor laughed, nervous. “Don’t mind this idiot. He’s dating Liam over here.” Liam chocked on his Oreo cookies as black Thor’s eyes fell on Liam meanwhile Eleanor and Niall had their eyes in narrow, threatening slits, throwing daggers at each other. “Aren’t you?”

Black Thor cleared his throat. “There’s a queue… so I better go back.”

Liam smiled through the tension between Eleanor and Niall. “Nice to meet you, Thor.”

“Thor?” he laughed heartedly.

Eleanor reached out and touched his bulging biceps, feeling them quite nicely. Black Thor did not mind one bit, in fact his eyes glittering as the two of them locked eyes with each other. “You look like Thor with those guns.”

“I go to the gym.”

“I love the gym.”

“We’re quite busy, Thor, since we’re heading for a party that we are going to be late for,” Niall, who was quickly finishing his frozen yoghurt, pointedly said. He stood up and motioned for Liam, too, to get up as well, who was already standing since Niall yanked his, and Eleanor’s, cups of frozen yoghurt and dumped them on the tray Black Thor was holding.

“Maybe I can get your number, beautiful…”

Eleanor’s cheeks tinged a light pink as she reached into her clutch bag for her phone. As Black Thor was tapping his digits onto her phone, and Eleanor’s eyes stupidly having hearty hearts in them, Niall was tapping his foot and Liam suppressing a laugh behind his fist.

In the taxi, heading to Leicester Square for _The Legend of Tarzan_ , Eleanor was sighing happily to her phone. “I think he’s lovely. Bien is a lovely name, innit?”

“He was a knob.”

“Someone’s jealous,” snorted Liam, seated to Niall’s right and helping himself to the free champagne the limo they are riding in was providing thanks to David Yates, the director of the movie. And, as Niall repeatedly reminded Eleanor and Liam, the same man who directed a couple of the magical Harry Potter movies.

“Shut up already.” Eleanor was quickly walking away from Niall and Liam during the pre-party movie screening. “We get that Yates is your best mate but seriously.”

“But he _is_ my best mate,” Niall pouted at Eleanor but his eyes were twinkling. “We’re going for dinner after this. With his mates. And wife.”

“That wife will be jealous,” Liam commented, more to himself, but Eleanor caught on and she laughed as Niall drowned his flute of champagne. “What? Did I say something?”

“Only the best thing!”

“Seriously, Payno? Who’s side are you on?”

Liam was completely puzzled. “Sorry?”

“Sometimes I swear you are too far up your own head,” Niall said, shaking his head and helping himself to his fourth bubbly drink.

“I do not,” huffed Liam. He looked at his wrist. “So, what time does the movie start?”

“Should be now.”

Niall drowned his champagne in a record two gulps and headed to where they would be watching the premiere of _The Legend of Tarzan_. And he, it dawned on him as he was munching on his free popcorn and non-alcoholic drinks, was the composer.

Oh, Merlin!  


**~     ~     *     ~     ~**  
  


****

Niall’s heart stopped. Quite literally. All his eyes could see were candles, candles, candles. As he walked down the few steps leading to his backyard, they themselves were littered with green garden lights, his legs could barely carry him.

The pool, as he slowly approached it, had multicolored lanterns floating about, a blue one would hit a yellow one and they would drift away from each other after as a red one would bump into a violet one. The edge of the pool was lit up by aqua block candles that matched the color of the pool itself.

The tree by the guesthouse did not have candles, fire hazard and all, but it did have fairy lights stringed around it, reminding him of a scene off _The Fault in Our Stars_ when Augustus and Hazel went on their first date and the trees in the restaurant were bright because of the hanging light bulbs.

Across the garden, there were all shapes, sizes, and colors of candles, mismatched and uncoordinated that it looked matched and coordinated. Somehow. And in the middle of his garden, were ball candles forming a large circle and in that circle was a blanket, a wooden basket and a tall, olive-skinned, handsome – he inhaled deeply – Zayn.

“My backyard is a fire hazard,” was the first thing that came out of his Irish mouth but if it got Zayn chuckling he does not think it was too bad.

“Um,” he looked down to his boots, suddenly shy, “the candles—was helped by Calder, Liam and Hadiyya. The um,” he made a circular motion with his index finger with a thick silver ring, “things were… the lanterns got water at some, uh…”

Niall could see he was getting breathless, if not already there, and his fingers were nervously tapping the side of his thigh – a nervous habit of his. Niall beamed at him as he entered the circle of candles, saying everything was beautiful and perfect and bright, and sat down. Belatedly, Zayn sat down, bumping their knees, but he did not move them nor did Niall so they remained touched.

“Normally, people have sandwiches as a picnic,” Zayn began and Niall nodded, biting on his bottom lip so as not so smile so much, too much. “But we’re not normal, we’re... us. So, what would ‘us’ eat, I wonder?” Zayn dramatically opened the basket and Niall peeped inside.

“Is that… pasta?” he questioned, not sure. He looked to Zayn smiling softly at him. “Is it?” he asked again, when Zayn did not respond.

“Tuna pasta,” he said, taking out the white bowl covered with visible cling wrap. “With wine,” he lifted the black bottle out of the basket, “and Skittles because I, stupidly, thought it was cool cause they’d match with the lanterns in the pool.”

“I love Skittles,” Niall grinned, his hands making grabby motions to three packets of Skittles but Zayn shook his head and Niall slumped. “Why not?”

“Food first.”

“I thought we weren’t normal?” Niall raised a challenging eyebrow. “We’re us and us eats desert before the main course. No appetizers?”

Zayn chuckled under his breath. “I didn’t want the basket to rip open from the bottom. Plates, please?”

Niall reached into the picnic basket, removing two plates – one forest green and the other oceanic blue – and handed the blue one to Zayn. Do not get Niall wrong, he was a huge romcom, hopeless romantic, but he thought his heart imploded when he realized the colors of the plates were _their_ Hogwarts houses.

“Hogwarts?”

“I didn’t want to be overly cheesy…” said Zayn as he served Niall’s plate with tuna pasta. Niall snorted taking a quick look-around his candle lit backyard and their picnic and the stars blinking up at them and really, all that was missing were rose petals and soft jazz music playing and for sure Niall’s heart would have imploded.

Niall James Horan, died from too much cheese, would read his headstone.

“What are you laughing at?” questioned Zayn.

Niall shook his head, hiding his large grin behind his fist. “This is cheesy.”

“You love cheesy,” he handed Niall his plate of warm food but Niall shook his head, ‘Add more!’ and Zayn scooped more onto the forest green plate.

“Do not,” Niall said, a little too late.

“Do too. You cried during _The Notebook_.”

“Who didn’t?” Niall retaliated.

“And _Clueless_?” Zayn raised an eyebrow as a challenge. He set his own plate down, nearly half of Niall’s plate, and covered the pasta, and put it back inside his picnic basket so as not to get cold.

“Cher deserved love and she was loyal and nice underneath all her fakeness.”

“ _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_?”

“Who hates Audrey Hepburn?” Niall practically roared because nobody, _nobody_ makes fun of Audrey Hepburn (when _he’s_ within earshot).

“The movie is racist to the Asian landlord.”

“Everyone was racist during that time, Asians were not an exception.”

“Oh, oh oh! What about _Bridget Jones’s Diary_? You wept, yelling at what’s her name—”

“Bridget Jones. The entire movie is about her! How do you forget her name?”

“You yelled at the TV because you thought she was destined to be with Mark and not the better looking Daniel.”

“Mark was a better choice, can’t believe Bridget didn’t realize that,” Niall huffed indignantly then proceeded to stuff his mouth with pasta.

“ _Roman Holiday_?” he challenged.

“Audrey Hepburn. Can’t believe you would question that movie.”

“ _Bringing Up Baby_ ”

“You cried during the movie,” laughed Niall. “Don’t deny it, you did, you totally did.”

“Because you had eaten all the brownies right before we watched it.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Zayn. I saw you intently watching _Tootsie_ when you proper whined, ‘Not another old movie’ and I said, ‘Classics are the best.’”

Zayn chewed on a forkful of tuna pasta. “ _Jerry Maguire_ is probably one you didn’t like.”

“It was too literal.”

“But it showed what love is, after the honeymoon, after the first kiss, after the bubbliness of it all, what’s really left is true love.”

“Movies are meant to be enjoyed,” Niall swallowed his food, “and they’re an escape from reality.”

“Well I liked it.”

“Course you did,” Niall snorted cheekily, “because you’re not a romantic at heart.”

“I still can’t believe you think _Love Actually_ is something to boast about.” He bumped shoulders with Niall. “It’s cliché. Literally. It’s set in the Christmas time when everyone hooks up to keep warm, the Prime Minister falls for the staff—it’s literally you falling for your boss and all the drama there is in between before you two, finally, be in love.”

Niall laughed and Zayn was a little surprised. He expected Niall to defend _Love Actually_ , stating it was a perfect movie about finding love in hopeless situations (c’mon, who dates after Christmas? Niall questioned) but here he was, laughing.

“I thought the same thing when Harry told me the plot to the movie,” he smiled, nostalgically, “and I made fun of him for literally the entire month of January after he recommended the film. So I watched it again—El was looking through my DVD set —and I liked it. Normally, falling-for-your-boss movies are sexual, always sexual for some reason, but this wasn’t so. Well, not excessive. More—”

Zayn smiled, rolling his eyes fondly. “Hopeless romantic, I tell you. And let’s not get started on _Beauty And the Beast_ …”

“I don’t care what you think but _Beauty And the Beast_ is the greatest of all. And now, it’s going to be better that Harry is acting in it, with Emma Watson no less.” He cleared his throat and, using a narrator’s voice said, “A tale as old as time.”

“Old is right,” Zayn muttered. “I still don’t get your obsession with Disney films.

Niall went into what seemed like a monologue, as grunts and eye-rolling was not considered part of proper speech to Niall, on the best of the best Disney films beginning with what started it all: _Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs_. Then followed _Dumbo_ , then _Bambi_ (of course) which Niall will never admit to Eleanor that he cries every single time his mother is shot by the hunter. _Cinderella_ (who does not love a little magic?), _Alice in Wonderland_ (though Niall prefers the latest one with Johnny Depp),  _Sleeping Beauty_ , _101 Dalmations, Lady And The Tramp, Aladdin_ (“You look like him?” “Do not!” “Do too. You’ve got the hair, the skin, the eyes… and didn’t you own a monkey before?” “Eat your pasta, Niall!”), _The Jungle Book_ …

By the time Niall was done, or rather he noticed he had been rambling, he was on his third plate of tuna salad and Zayn on his second glass of red.

“Why’d you stop?” he inquired curious.

“I know you don’t like such movies,” he combed his hand through his hair, “but you watched every single one I’ve listed.” He shook his head in wonder. “You watched every single one with me. Why?”

“Because you like them.”

Niall shut his eyes, hard. He inhaled deeply, feeling the soft breeze on his skin, his plate suddenly heavy in his left hand and a sting behind his eyes. Why the fuck was he always teary?

“Is everything alright, Niall?” questioned Zayn, his hand on Niall’s thigh.

“We all want to be remembered. Want to—live forever. We want it so bad we never think about remembering. We forget that one day we’ll stop remembering.

“We stop remembering birthdays, anniversaries and we blame it on old age. We forget to buy toothpaste, tea leaves and soap because it slipped our mind. It never crosses our mind to pay for electricity bills, mortgage, the lawyer, pension because we’re stressed.” He violently wiped his cheek, annoyed that he was _crying._ “We don’t realize it until we can’t remember who we are. And I don’t mean it in a deep way, or profound or trying to sound like some hipster, I mean it in the literal sense.”

Zayn reached into the space between and squeezed his thigh. “Niall.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is: I don’t want to forget you. I always want to remember you, even if we grow old like in _The Notebook_ and I get Alzheimer’s, I still want to. I want to always remember you but I know I won’t because Alzheimer’s shrinks your brain and I will not have you, in every sense of the word. I hold your hand but I will not remember. I won’t. And that scares the shit out of me. I will try my best but diseases are stronger or summat.

“So if you don’t want me, and I get it, I’ll always love you. I lied when I tweeted you’re the best thing I never had, because you are the best thing I had—sort of had,” he changed, laughing through the tears. “I know you like me, like how I like you, and if there’s one thing that all these romcoms that you hate have taught me is that love in movies is bullshit but doesn’t stop it from feeling like it’s real. So I will wait for you, I will wait until you’re ready to hold my hand, wait until you can kiss me, wait until you can call me yours, wait until you don’t feel like what you are is wrong, because I will wait because… because I want to always, always remember you.”

Niall dared to look up to find Zayn was squeezing his fist into his eye, his mouth hanging and Niall could hear him heaving in and out rapidly. Niall blinked away the blurriness from his eyes and cupped his hand on top of his thigh.

“Where’s John Legend when you need him?” he joked and Niall laughed, sniffing in couple of times. “You should act in your own romcom.”

“Starring the pale Irish from a small town in Mullingar who goes to London to follow his dreams and instead of finding the dream he wanted, he found another.”

“Stop,” Zayn ducked his head, but the dazzling smile on his lips and Zayn rubbing his eye with his fist told Niall he did not mind. Zayn wore his heart on his sleeve, after all. “Cheese is meant for food.”

Niall gripped the hand laying on this thigh. “I don’t think so.”

“Will you wait?”

Niall leaned across and pressed his lips to Zayn’s black, unlike his icy blond hair, stubble and pressed his lips, longer than was deemed necessary but the candles, the picnic, the movies, the damn soliloquy made it alright. Okay.

“Just tell me when,” he pulled back and rested his forehead to Zayn’s temple where the fading MOM henna was, “no matter how long you take, just tell me when.” Zayn ducked his head and kissed his neck, laying several warm kisses along his neck.

“Okay,” said Niall as he breathed in through his nose, sniffing and making sure his cheeks had no traces of tears. “Can we talk about non-cheesy things or I’m going to be a bawling mess on this date.”

Zayn started. “This a date?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, more to himself, “it is. Our first date. So,” he dramatically paused as he stabbed his tuna pasta, “how’s work?”

They both laughed, Niall louder and the laughter aired any awkwardness that had been left lingering. “I got a—hang on! I’ve been talking this _entire_ time and I’m pretty sure it’s quite rude for someone to chat nonstop during a date. Your turn.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Your turn,” and Niall shoved a forkful of tuna pasta into his mouth. Zayn, on the other hand, decided he was not going to lie to himself that he could continue eating and stopped, though proud he finished a plate of food and also, he was starting to feel the buzz from the wine, so he opened a bag of Skittles, pouring it into the spare wine glass from the picnic basket and munching on two at a time.

“I went to Mecca during Ramadhan.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “It was just like I remembered it: hot, crowded and stuffy. But the other part of why Muslims go to Mecca was enjoyable. And spiritually cleansing… sort of?”

“And then,” encouraged Niall when Zayn focused more on Skittles than his tales.

“The whole Court thing with my house—” Niall apologized to which Zayn waved him off. “Um… I don’t know what to say when—oh! I got nominated for the MTV Awards.”

This year’s MTV Video Music Award were going to be held in Amsterdam and it would be held, not this Sunday, but the following Sunday. For this year, the nomination list was dominated by Beyoncé for her controversial album, _Lemonade_. Zayn was nominated in the Best Visual Effects for _PILLOW TALK_ while Niall was nominated for his single _This Town_ in the Best New Artist category. Additionally, he would be performing his new single, _Human_ with none other than his band and best mate Liam Payne. A new addition to the VMAs is the ‘IT’ girl to which Eleanor was declared one – along with four other girls but _Eleanor was an IT girl now!!_ as Niall repeatedly flaunted on Instagram as much as he could if the constant photographic shots of her were any indication.

“You excited?”

Zayn nodded. Niall knew he was. When they were at the People’s Choice he had confessed that Zayn had stopped being invited to such and such award shows because of, well, March 2015 and, as Greg worked on his contract, RCA and his Management were also behind the reason he was rarely nominated for any awards for his edgy music.

“How’s your shoe project going?”

Zayn rolled his eyes but was nevertheless smiling at Niall. “Giuseppe project. I’ve officially started, thanks to you.”

“No worries.”

“Hope your brother will be happy with the gift I sent him.”

“He will,” he told him reassuringly as if he were the one receiving Zayn’s gift. But, as if some hidden talent, Zayn was good at gift giving. “So, any ideas on what shoes you’re going to make?”

“I think I’m still shook that I get to do this,” he shook his head, words beyond him, “for a long time I didn’t think it’d happen. I always thought it’d be Gee’s.”

Niall did his best to ignore the nickname of his ex-girlfriend. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue. “It’s all yours.”

Zayn smiled in response. He laid on the picnic blanket and looked up at the starry night sky. They fell into a comfortable silence, Niall still enjoying the tuna pasta (“You’ve got to make this for me again.” “It’s quite easy. I’ll send you the menu.” “What’s the point of having a designated Chef if they don’t cook for you?” to which Zayn threw Skittles to his face) but not really drinking the wine. Do not get him wrong, anything alcohol he is in love with, but wine never did it for him. Not when Harry and him would go (after Harry begged with puppy-eyes) wine tasting, not when Eleanor tried making him change from Guinness to chardonnay or Cabernet Sauvignon, not even when he forced himself to finish a whole bottle of wine which he threw out the following month.

Wine did not agree with him. So when Niall finished one whole glass of wine, he patted himself on the back – figuratively – and to celebrate, he scooped more tuna pasta onto his plate.

“You’re not smoking?” he asked curiously. Zayn snorted and shook his head, eyes never leaving the night sky. “Why not?”

“No one smokes on the first date. You’re putting your best foot forward and all that shit.”

“I’m over here eating like a pig so you might as well show me you smoking.”

Zayn’s hand travelled to the small of his back and he purposefully lowered his voice, at least that was what Niall thought, saying, “I like a guy who can eat.”

Yes, it was cheesy, and dumb, and _oh gosh!_ could Niall roll his eyes but he did not because it was Zayn. Zayn wearing a leather jacket. Zayn’s hair completely blond suiting him so, so much. Zayn’s lips which were a dangerous crimson color, Zayn who smelled really, really good right now, Zayn who always chose to wear black over any other color, Zayn who cooked amazing tuna pasta, Zayn who was buzzed on two glasses of red, Zayn… it was Zayn and if he were standing he swears his knees would have given out.

“I wanna see the lanterns,” he said, abruptly.

Zayn opened his eyes to look over at Niall. “Why?”

Niall was already standing and walking to his pool. He toed off his Chuck Taylor’s and socks and was glad to be wearing shorts, as he could stand in the shallow end. Zayn, who still could not swim, decided to sit cross-legged on the edge of the pool.

“I’ve never heard of colored lanterns except white and red.” Zayn simply smiled as Niall picked up a yellow lantern floating on the water. “Where did you get them?”

“My secret.”

Niall rolled his eyes half-heartedly, too busy going deeper into the pool to catch as many lanterns as he could. Zayn helped, only when a lantern floated close to the edge and he pushed it towards Niall. Niall declared, “Fuck it,” before going deeper into the pool, his clothes proper wet now.

“You’re soaking your clothes.”

“YOLO, Zayn.”

“Alright, Kim Kardashian.”

“Have you seen my ass lately?” laughed Niall, pushing three orange lanterns to the shallow side of the pool. Zayn got up, and walked to where their picnic was held, took his and Niall’s phone and came back to find three-quarters of the lanterns were in the shallow end.

“Good idea. I want you to take a photo of me in the pool and upload it on my Instagram,” instructed Niall, carefully letting a red lantern float towards the other side of the pool.

“You need a password on your phone, Niall,” Zayn said, opening the camera.

He took several photos of Niall – him surrounded by two green lanterns, another where only his head was out of the water he looked like a pale lantern, another where lanterns seemed to be following him like ants following a trail, and his best photo of Niall, with his arms up in the air with nothing but lit lanterns all around him and no sight of water.

He uploaded a couple of them on Instagram, through Niall’s insistence he put filters, and in the meantime took more of Niall – for his own gallery.

“Are these lanterns the same color as the LGBT, and others, flag?” gasped Niall, the colors of the lantern dawning on him. Zayn shyly smiled. “You call me cheesy but you’re the biggest cheese ball between us.”

“Not,” Zayn vehemently denied it. Niall swam through the water and lanterns, lifted himself out of the pool, and sat beside him.

“I like it,” he whispered and wiped the water off his face. Zayn buried his face in the space of his (wet) shoulder instead of spluttering and stammering through his words and embarrassment. He felt Niall’s laughing vibrations and that caused him to bury his head deeper into his shoulder – if possible.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Niall shook his head. “This is one of those rare summers in London where it’s actually warm at night. Plus the water is warm so my feet aren’t freezing.”

Zayn grimaced.

Niall poked him on the ribs. “One day I will teach you to swim.”

“Doubt it.”

“I will, and you won’t see it coming,” said Niall, determined. Silence fell between them, Zayn’s head on the crook of his wet shoulder, Niall gently poking a red lantern with his big toe away.

 “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he apologized, voice in a whisper but Niall could hear the sincerity in it. He patted his shoulder, a smile playing on his lips.

“To be fair, I provoked you.”

Zayn was shaking his head even before Niall had finished talking. “You couldn’t breathe and I was too into my head to _notice_ and—and I’m extremely sorry, Niall. You know I’d never hurt you. Ever.”

He was begging him, begging Niall to believe him.

“Both of us were in the wrong. That day was bad for us but you were wrong.”

“How so?”

Niall shined brighter than the stars at him and Zayn could not help the warmth spreading to his tippy toes. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Niaz Kilam.”

Zayn ducked his head, hiding the blush spreading across his cheeks. Niall poked his cheek once, his lips fighting down a grin, and looked over at the pool, silence blanketing them.

“I left because I thought you might know what I was trying to hide,” Zayn confessed, his voice low and raw and Niall smiled at the pool. His smile widened as Zayn joined their fingers. “In your song, _Human_ , when you sing: _Do you see it clearer or are you deceived, in what you believe?_ and I, for a long time, didn’t know if I saw clearer or was deceived. I’ve been deceiving myself, whenever I used to disappear, thinking I’d find the answers out there but—”he shook his head on Niall’s shoulder – “I’m only human, right?”

Niall softly chuckled. “Yeah. Or sometimes the truth is so loud you can’t ignore.”

“Or that.”

They spent an hour or so lounging around the pool, lots of selfies, Snap videos for Niall of the candles and lanterns that made his backyard magical and soon it was time for Zayn to leave. They blew out the candles, except the ones in the pool, and left the fairy lights on the tree lit. It being a date, Zayn was not to be spending the night (“Not for sex, you cunt, for a night cap.” “Night cap translates to sex, you fuck!”) but he really did have a great time and would love to have a second one.

“Of course,” smiled Niall, standing in the corridor leading to the front door. “Call me when you reach at your sister’s, yeah?”

Zayn did not reply, instead leaning in and kissing him. Niall was pretty sure he stopped breathing as Zayn pressed his lips to his, feeling his fingers below his earlobe… but that was not what made him lose his breath. It was his lips.

They were soft, chapped a little (suddenly he wonders if he should have licked his lips _before_ the kiss), but damn, damn his lips are fucking delicious. He was not embarrassed when he whined into the kiss, their lips locking with each other, Niall sliding his arms around Zayn’s hips, pulling him in and his back arched sinfully.

Niall ran his tongue on his bottom lip, but Zayn, _bloody Zayn_ , kept his mouth shut. So no tongues, he guessed. No matter. He rounded his arm into the back of Zayn’s buzz cut short hair, scratching as his lips tasted him, his warmth, his Zaynness, his all. He licked his lips greedily, massaging his lips with his own and he did not realize that he was digging his fingers into Zayn’s hips until, during their kiss, held Niall’s hands and gently held them in his, prodding them off his hips where they were dangerously low.

Niall peppered him his lips with kisses, soft ones until Zayn was chuckling softly with the amount of attention his lips were getting.

“Sure you can’t stay,” Niall breathed on his lips. Zayn cupped his face and kissed his forehead.

“Night, Niall,” Zayn said pulling away from him.

“Night, Zayno,” he said, with a dreamy look in his blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINAAAAAAAAAAAAALLY !! they're on a date ♫♫ & all these movies were quite a lot to list but,,, niall's a fan after all.
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly appreciated ☺ tell me whatcha think, sons -- good or bad, i'd love to hear it [=  
> take care


	24. Got Your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziall take a trip to the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam.

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> **When autumn darkness falls, what we will remember are the small acts of kindness: a cake, a hug, an invitation to talk, and every single rose.  
>       ~  Jens Stoltenberg**

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         “3 months?” Niall bellowed. “That’s too soon!”

Save The Date! Maura was getting married in October to her fiancé Chris Gallagher and whatever date Maura had in her head, it was Law. Greg had been called but could not make it to today’s first meeting for the wedding planning but Denise was available. In tow was Eleanor, and of course, Niall and his Ma.

“No it’s not. We can make it,” said Eleanor, yet her face was saying the same thing as Niall’s face. “We just need to speed rush through the wedding planning by… half.”

Denise drank her white wine.

“I’m t’e only one between us all who doesn’t work,” said Maura, “therefore I’m going t’ be quite busy.”

Niall joined Denise in drowning in beer that he – for the first time – was not paying for, thank you, Chris.

“What have you decided so far?” inquired Eleanor, her notepad and pen already on the table and in hand. She was taking this very seriously, Maura was basically her second mother.

“Chris is working t’e honeymoon details, so that’s sorted… ‘n’ that is ‘bout it.”

Eleanor’s mouth dropped to the table as the pen in her hand dropped. Was this all that Maura had done? “What about the invitations? Guests? Venue? Caterer? DJ? Where will the guests be staying at? Videographer? _Dresses?!_ ”

“That’s why yer all here.”

“Okay. First things first, venue. Do you have a place?”

“No, but Chris and me agreed on a London wedding, seeing as half t’e people live in London,” Maura said as Eleanor wrote it down on her notepad.

“I know many, many places that’ll you’ll love in London as a venue for your wedding—hang on, are you having a church wedding?”

“Yes,” Niall answered for his Ma with Denise nodding. Of course she was going to have a church wedding, it was a no brainer. Eleanor was nodding, more to herself, as she scribbled down.

“Venue for reception and ceremony done.” She stopped writing and cut out pages from her notepad, giving each one and, miraculously, three extra pens from her tiny bag. “We all need to write down our duties before we leave in case we forget.”

“Heeeey!” Niall whined when she looked directly at him. At the top he wrote, _MCNIALLER DUTIES_ , as Eleanor moved onto the next item on the agenda: Guest list.

“I’ve already made me guest list along wit’ Chris, but I need yer guest lists. Elly ‘n’ Niall combine yours, while Denise ‘n’ Greg ye shall combine yers ‘n’ send ‘t by Friday.”

Niall wrote down ‘guest list’ as his first item on his wedding duties.

“M, you need to purchase your wedding insurance A.S.A.P.” Maura wrote it down on her paper. “Also, you need a wedding party to think about STAT.”

“I’ve got t’at covered. Me husband is goin’ to be Chris,” Maura smiled sweetly as Niall rolled his eyes as the two ladies coo’d at her. “Me Maid o’ Honor is goin’ to be Anne, I’ll have t’ree bridesmaids—”

“Anne?” asked Denise.

“Anne Twist.”

Niall choked on his beer. “Harry’s mom?”

“Ye, Chicken. We’re quite close ‘n’ I’d love it if she were me Maid o’ Honor.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” Niall assured his Ma. “I’m just… surprised, s’all. Didn’t think you two talked.”

“We’re on a schedule here,” Eleanor interrupted, “your wedding party has: one husband, one Maid of Honor and three bridesmaids. What of Chris’ side?”

“T’e same. Me bridesmaids are ye,” she said holding Eleanor’s forearm and looked across the table to Denise, “and ye, and me best friend Margaret.”

“The one with the stompy foot?” wondered Niall as the three females coo’d loudly, again. He drunk his beer. “I get veto on Photographer.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m graduating this Saturday from my online photography classes and I’ll officially be a photographer.”

“Congratulations, Chicken!” His Ma kissed his temple. “So proud of ye.”

“Nice!” Denise fist bumped Niall.

“Fine, Niall is photographer. Videographer?”

“My brother,” Denise said and Maura agreed.

“Floral designer?”

“I want ye t’ handle all the designin’ for the floral, for reception and ceremony venues, t’e weddin’ cards ‘n’ anywhere where designin’ should take place,” said Maura as Eleanor scribbled quickly on her notepad. “I’m dealin’ with t’e cake,” she added, writing down on her own piece of paper.

“Entertainment, which is basically a DJ and an MC who will be at the ceremony and reception.”

“Greg knows someone,” Denise chipped in. “He’ll handle the DJ aspect for the reception.”

“Good ‘cause for the ceremony it should strictly be Cat’olic.”

“Bookings for hotels for out-of-town guests.”

Niall chuckled and straightened in his seat. “I’ve got this. A friend of mine who sort of manages The Dorchester hotel said I should call her if I ever had a wedding.”

“Really?” asked Denise, doubtful.

“Helen Smith, bless her, she’s the Sales and Marketing for the Dorchester Collection and she said if I ever had a wedding I should call her and I will. So the guests will stay at The Dorchester.”

“‘Tis a five-star hotel, Chicken.”

“Your wedding guests should stay in style,” he winked at his Ma.

“That’s sorted then, Niall’s in charge of hotel booking. Before we go on, I forgot. What’s the date for the wedding?”

“I’ve decided on t’e first or second week o’ October. It really depends on the Church ‘n’ the venue ‘n’ all t’at.”

“Alright then we should head to the ceremonies venues in London because we need to create Save the Date cards and send them STAT because we are technically behind schedule.”

“Funny enough, people always make time for weddings, no matter what.”

“Agreed,” nodded Niall in agreement with Denise.

“It’s good to be _safe_ ,” Eleanor said, challenging him with a quirk of her perfect eyebrow. When Niall returned to sipping his beer (and wondering when they would order food), Eleanor continued. “Transport is vital. Seeing as the ceremony and reception will be at different places.”

“I’ve got it,” Niall volunteered. “That includes the transport that shall be taking Ma from the ceremony to the reception and anywhere else?” Eleanor nodded at him in confirmation and jotted down on his paper his growing duties. “’Kay.”

“Caterers.”

“So dramatic,” Niall laughed when Eleanor dramatically announced _caterers_. “By me.”

Maura quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Ye?”

“Thanks, Ma, for the vote of confidence. I assure you that I have great taste in food.”

“You eat everything!” scoffed Denise.

“Aw c’mon, not you too. None of you trust my food taste,” grunted Niall unhappily.

“It’s not t’at, Chicken, it’s just t’at ye eat some of the weirdest t’ings. ‘N’ ye can’t cook.”

“What does that have to do with my taste buds?”

“A great cook recognizes bad food,” said Eleanor, as if stating the obvious.

See, Niall really, really wanted to be on catering duty. One, he wanted to unburden his Ma who he believed should only be worried about attending her wedding and her dress and other girly things that came along. Eleanor basically ate like rabbits, salads and all, so that would dampen the food mood at his Ma’s wedding and Denise food choice always, always had fish, no matter what and far, far too much salt… which left _him_.

“What if I have Harry with me?” he suggested.

“Harry Styles?”

“Harry Styles,” Niall repeated to a suspicious Eleanor. “He’s a good cook, he has great taste in food, doesn’t put too much salt or fish, nor does he only eat grass as a main course.” Denise and Eleanor scowled at him. “And he has fantastic taste buds. And knows a few caterers of his own.” The last was not true but Niall really, really wanted to be appointed catering duty.

“Fine,” Maura conceded much to the other two’s protests and Niall wrote in capital letters, big enough if Eleanor and Denise craned their necks, to read CATERER KING from his duty list. “But if ‘Arry ain’t accompanyin’ ye to the different caterers yer fired ‘n’ I’m puttin’ Denise in charge.”

“As long as El is nowhere on that list.”

Eleanor threw a bread roll at him then proceeded down the wedding planning list. “Dresses for everyone in the wedding party?”

“I can do that with you, Maura,” Denise volunteered and as Maura approved, wrote it down on her list.

“Who’s on the wedding party for Chris?”

“His best man is his brother and three grooms, one is my husband, Niall here refused stating he was going to be the wedding planner on the day,” Niall grinned widely, “and the other two are his great friends.”

“I want to join Eleanor on the décor for the ceremony,” said Niall, stepping in before Eleanor moved on to the next item on the agenda.

“Why? I’ve got excellent taste.”

“I know you do but,” Niall sighed. How should he say this without hurting El? “I obviously wasn’t there for Ma’s first wedding so I want to make sure this is going to be right. Every detail.”

“Don’t trust my décor skills?” asked Eleanor, bordering on offended.

“No, no, not that. Just. I could care less about where Ma got married, the reception and after party and whatever else—the Church is a big deal to Ma, not saying that you being the designer for it lessens your creativity and all that,” he hurriedly added, “but—”

Denise placed her hand on top of his arm, effectively halting his blabbering. “What Ni is trying to say, not that Eleanor will be offended,” she added to Niall, “is that the ceremony is going to be intimate and family speaks volumes in terms of the reception being where Maura is officially being married.”

“It’s a family thing, I get it. I’m not offended, Nini, you should’ve just said.”

“I didn’t want you to take it the wrong way,” admitted Niall, relieved that Eleanor understood. “Besides, I’ll be with Greg on the designing of the ceremony venue.”

“I want ye for t’e reception,” said Maura, cheekily. Even though their table at the restaurant was tiny and Maura was doing her best to whisper, Niall and Denise could very well hear as she leaned to Eleanor, whispering, “The ceremony is much smaller than t’e reception.”

Eleanor winked her way. “Course.”

“Oi!” Niall said, faux offended.

“Weddin’ invitations is yerself and Chris, right?” Maura nodded to Eleanor. “So t’at’s out of t’e list. I’m assumin’ if we have t’e venue for the ceremony, we will automatically have an officiant whom ye will need t’ discuss plans for t’e ceremony.”

“For the rings,” Denise said, as if remembering suddenly, “Greg said Chris will take him to buy them. And Theo is the flower… boy?” She questioned and the table nodded at her. “Boy.”

“Aww, Theo,” Niall grinned. “He’ll look dashing in a suit.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“I think it’s too soon for that, El,” said Niall wearingly eyeing not just his list of duties but his Ma’s and Denise and they were quite lengthly. He could not imagine what Eleanor’s looked like. “We’ve barely even gotten the catering and cake and all else ready. Think that should be for our second meeting.”

“Okay… everything else depends on what we’ve discussed today. Oh, M, you must take your engagement photos.”

She smiled. “We have.”

“We haven’t seen any,” said Denise.

“M’an old woman, Den, I forget t’ings. Text me and I will.”

“So are we done…?”

“I think so… yeah, yeah we are.”

“Finally,” Niall heaved  a sigh of relief. “We can eat now.” He waved down a waiter. “Been starving.”

“Ye wouldn’t have listened if we were eatin’.”

“When’s our next meeting?”

“The end of t’is month, me thinks,” said Maura and everyone agreed and Niall’s stomach could settle down now that food was just about to come after ordering.

 

**~       ~      *       ~       ~**  
  


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****Niall was having a moderately free week therefore he was plently free.

He did his scheduled interviews in the mornings such as BBC Radio 1 interview with Nick Grimshaw, Absolute Radio, Capital FM, and the traveling down to Cardiff, Xpress Radio. He took Theo to his sing-a-long and called Denise saying he would be sleeping over, watched a movie with Bressie, Skyped every night with Zayn as he had travelled to L.A. for his VMan photoshoot and meeting with the designers for Giuseppe for his shoe project , confirmed the day when he wanted to release his music video that came out splendidly, and not forgetting his fortnightly lunch with Hadiyya.

Niall took the chance to ask Hadiyya on who-was-who in Zayn’s family. See, no matter how many times Zayn told, Hadiyya told him, even Doniya and Tricia, he could not fix names to faces (to Zayn’s family it seemed) so he asked through vague descriptions and thankfully photos on Hadiyya’s phone, who was who as he was making the guest list for his Ma’s wedding. He learned from past mistakes and therefore was inviting a select few and also, his Ma said it was a invite-only wedding so he had to make sure to invite _the right people_ which meant no Layla or Kareem.

Niall was not the only who was moderately free, so was Liam. In fact, Liam was completely free. EPL season was over and Chelsea finished an appalling 9th place (which Niall laughed at every chance he got) meaning the Club was not training for UEFA Champions League or any other football competitions so yes, Liam was completely free.

“You do know that The Dorchester is a five-star hotel, right?”

Niall was reminded, yet again. Him and Liam were driving to east Hyde Park in Mayfair, London this rare sunny afternoon. Why everyone kept insisting the star of the hotel was beyond him but he could not help but be smug a little at the impressive looks everyone gave him because _The Dorchester_.

“Yeah, yeah but I know the Sales lady so it’s all good,” said Niall.

Liam played with his seat belt as he asked, “Helen Smith, you said?”

Niall nodded. “I helped her with something and she owes me a favour and, well, what a better time to use it than now?”

“But you’re inviting probably over 50 guests to spend the night – for free I might add – at The Dorchester,” said Liam, slow enough he sounded like Harry.

“I know right,” Niall ignored the irony and grinned.

Liam shook his head. He was going to the five-star for the first time in his life, who was he to complain? “How goes the rest of the wedding planning?”

“Didn’t realize how much planning goes into wedding planning! There are cakes, flowers, different venues, the DJ, even the bloody veil is accounted for!”

“That was my sister Ruth last year,” Liam smiled. “She was basically running up and down, contacting vendors, lawyers, jewellers, anyone basically. I think she even had them on speed dial.”

Niall laughed, slowing down at a red light. “I think that’ll be Ma, soon. Though I’ll be the wedding planner on the day so I think I’ll feel what Ruth felt for months.”

“What duties did you get?”

“Hotel booking, photographer—”

“Congrats on that,” Liam beamed, throwing a punch to Niall’s arm who laughed in response. “Can’t believe you’re an official photographer, not like the rest of us Instagram photographers.”

Niall smiled at the congratulations and continued telling Liam his wedding duties. “Making the guest list, which I should send to El my list so she combines with hers to send to Ma by tomorrow, Transport, décor for the church and can you believe I only got duty of catering because I added Harry as my help?”

“Makes sense.”

Niall threw him a look. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Remember Jay’s wedding when you thought you were eating chicken but it was rabbit?” said Liam and Niall mumbled a ‘That was one time!’ “Or when you said, ‘This scotch is delicious!’ when it was cognac? How about when you—”

“I’m going to throw you out of my car!” Niall threatened but Liam simply laughed. “So now I have to always be with Harry when I look for caterers.”

“Why not Gemma?”

“My girlfriend, right?” Niall asked, cheekily. He made a left turn.

“Aren’t you dating Zayn?” Liam questioned.

“You know what I meant.” Niall stepped on the accelerator. “Besides, we’re not officially dating. I told him I’d wait for him.”

Liam fake gagged.

“Romantic sap, me. Does everyone know this about me or…”

“Yes. Thank Harry for duping you for staying in for movie nights during the tours instead of going out with us.”

Niall rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “I could ask Gemma, I mean she grew up with Harry so she should know how to cook and all.” Niall slammed his hand on the steering wheel making his final decision. “It’s settled. I’ll ask my girlfriend—here, take my phone and open Twitter.”

“… alright,” said Liam, unsure of what was happening.

“Tweet Gemma asking her if she is free for a date this Saturday.”

Typing the instructions, Liam asked, “What about Zayn?”

“He knows about my girlfriend, so it’s cool. He knows it’s not serious unlike Harry.”

A smirk grew on Liam’s lips. “He’s going to flip. Sent. Those are all your wedding duties? Seems few.”

“I’m also paying for everything, sort of a gift to Ma,” he said, his voice going soft. “I want this to be her best wedding. Memorable and, also, I don’t want her stressing.”

“How did Chris take it? What with you paying for everything?”

“He was a little bit mad but we compromised: he would pay for the honeymoon and the dresses and I’d pay for everything. Now that I think about it, Greg did not protest that proposal. Fucking hell that sneaky bastard!”

Liam smiled knowingly. “That was my older sister when she only paid for the dresses and nothing else. Though she was basically the wedding planner, but still. Speaking of, when is the wedding?”

“The first or second week of October. El and Ma are meant to tell us what the Church has agreed upon. Is that my phone buzzing?”

“Harry’s replied,” laughed Liam in reply. “‘No she is not free this Saturday’ with two hugs and kisses and a H. Honestly, does Harry never give up?... Oh a new tweet. ‘Nor is she free any other Saturday, or Sunday, or Monday, or Tuesday through to Friday.’”

“That answers your question: he never gives up.”

“She’s replied!” squealed Liam.

“What did she tweet?” he asked in equal excitement.

“‘Depends where you’re taking me.’ Where are you taking the fair lady, Mr Horan?”

“The Dorchester.”

“Why aren’t _we_ dating?” said Liam as he typed on Niall’s phone. “Is Harry honestly online? He’s replying so quickly.”

“What’s he saying?”

“‘We’ll both be there. All the love, H.’ Can I come too?”

“None of you will be there. Tell him he’s not invited,” demanded Niall, shoving the phone back into Liam’s hands. Niall made a left turn, another turn, then a right turn, and it looked as if Harry was not online. “We’ll check later.”

“Are you excited for MTV?”

Liam nodded, smiling with all his teeth. “Can’t wait. Thanks, by the way, for having me on stage with you.”

“Well, you did end up 9th on the Table.”

Liam groaned, loud. “Let it go, Nialler. Next season is another chance.”

“Didn’t you say Conte was the best?”

Liam groaned and effectively changed the subject. “Very, very happy for you letting me sing with you on stage during the VMAs.”

“Welcome.”

“Is Zayn coming?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll fly straight to Amsterdam so we’ll all meet there.”

“What did you mean when you said you’re waiting for him?” he asked, hesitantly. He was not sure if he had the right to ask or if it was too personal.

“He thinks being gay is wrong,” admitted Niall. “I mean it’s not a horrible feeling because I get it, I was there but for me it wasn’t as bad as he is taking it.”

Now Liam was worried. “Hopefully it’s not bad.”

“Harry made me realize what he was going through. I didn’t think enough about what liking boys meant because I always had someone, talked it through and just. I even came out to my Ma and she was supportive and all, Greg and everyone, but Zayn hasn’t told anyone.”

“Apart from Eid.”

“Eid,” he repeated. He parked his car in the parking lot for The Dorchester.

Liam wanted to ask where Niall had been during Eid, what seemed more pressing than attending Eid but he felt as if Niall would lie to him only because he did not want anyone to know where he had gone. So instead he asked, “Do you think he will be ready? I mean, being gay is still such a huge deal.”

“I haven’t come out, by the way, to the world. To social media. To tabloids, to—Directioners! I think I should.”

“What?” Liam stammered. “What? What? What? Are you insane, Nialler?”

“No, but seriously, think about it, this is the right time. Or there’ll never be a right time but this is the right time,” he said and he had that buzz and twinkle and _Niallness_ Liam knew all too well.

“I think you should do what you want, it’s your life and all but this doesn’t sound like you’ve thought it through. Plus, you’re going to pressure Zayn to come out, too.”

Niall slumped back into his car seat. “Hey, I can ask him? Tweet Zayn aski—”

“I’m not your P.A., idiot. Tweet him yourself.”

Niall rolled his eyes and sent a DM hypothetically asking _what if i came out today?_ and he was so nervous sending it he might as well have been sending nuclear launch codes to Kim Jong-un. As they were walking towards the entrance of the five-star luxury hotel, he replied to Gemma’s tweet saying it was he would pick her up at 8 o’clock. As an afterthought he added, _no kids allowed_ to which Harry sent a tweet stating: _we can’t wait xx H._

**~          ~          *          ~          ~**

****  


****  


“I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“Because you know you’re wrong you have nothing to say?”

Niall turned around in the queue to face Zayn. “Sweet bananas are much better than normal bananas, what are you even on, meth?”

Zayn deadpanned, “Ha. Hilarious, you.”

Niall simply smiled and turned forward waiting for the queue to move. It was a day to the VMAs and Niall, because they were in Amsterdam and he was a huge, _huge_ fan of _The Fault in Our Stars_ , he suggested the four of them go to the Anne Frank House. Liam bailed stating he had been invited to a small party at some Dutch footballer he did not catch the name of and Eleanor said she was doing her Amsterdam vlog (finally getting round to it) so that left Niall and Zayn. As he was waiting for their turn to enter the Anne Frank house (was it always busy on Saturdays?), he wondered if Liam really did have a party and if Eleanor was really going to work on her vlog. Hmm…

Niall tensed when he felt Zayn inch into his personal space and lay his head on his shoulder. He willed himself to remain calm. Since their landing in Amsterdam, not that he was complaining, Zayn has been extra touchy with him.

Once inside, Niall was straightaway mesmerized by the Anne Frank. Frankly, the stairs were a bothersome but other than that, it was magnificent. They both opted out of the audio guide, choosing to explore the House by themselves. As they looked through the photos on the first floor, Zayn’s fingers brushed with his. He immediately looked down, wondering if it was a mistake but Zayn was looking pointedly at another photo and he thought nothing of it.

As they climbed the steep, wooden stairs to the second floor, Zayn’s hand was on the small of his back, a warm, lingering presence. His knees, as if they were not struggling to climb those Satan-built stairs, felt weak. They reached the floor and explored.

Zayn’s hand squeezed his and this time he knew he had done it on purpose. He could see the tug on the corner of his lip going up, his eyes blinking slowly and looking at no one but him.

“Can you believe this is the book case that hid her family from the Nazi’s?” said one man who looked like he was in his fifties. Niall turned and gasped silently at Zayn who was shaking his head in wonder. The book case itself was brown in color, and looked like a, well, normal book case. Hard to imagine that something as _normal_ as a book case saved someone’s life!

It was time to climb the bloody stairs, again, after they both felt they had finished looking around the somewhat large room. On the above floor was a room filled with photos of Anne Frank’s family, some photos of Nazi Germany with descriptions below.

Zayn watched tirelessly as Niall read the descriptions, his lips moving and his hands tucked to his sides. His eyes would widen at times, then shake his head a little, but he did not stop reading, did not stop looking from one photo, lingering a while, to another and… he was an idiot.

He could not help staring over at Niall, he never got tired is the thing, because he was the fucking sun. You never did get tired of the sun’s warmth, the sun’s laughter, the crinkles in the sun’s eyes, its jokes, its Irish accent and his wit and his humor and his inexhaustible stomach. Most of all, you never did tire of the sun’s company.

Zayn really, really, wanted to say that it was okay, _we can touch, kiss, do whatever we want together_ , but he was not ready. He shut his eyes for a moment. He liked Niall, _oh!_ he really, really, really, really, _really_ liked him and knowing that Niall has not been exactly himself lately was worrying him.

Niall said he would wait for him, wait until he was ready, but when Niall tried to hold his hand, when he laid his head on his shoulder but immediately backed off, when they held each other’s gaze and Niall’s head would inch forward but turned it last minute so fast he swore Niall lost his balance… he did not think it is fair on Niall. It was not fair that Niall should wait until he manned up.

“You alright?”

He opened his eyes to find Niall worriedly gazing at him, his hand around his wrist. He nodded at him, with a ghost smile, and they continued to the last floor of the House.

Niall noticed Zayn’s mood dampening the longer they stayed in the Anne Frank House. He did not know why, even went asking if they should leave which Zayn shook his head. He wanted to kiss his temple, hold his hand, anything really, but instead he stood close by hoping it was somehow lifting his brooding mood.

“It’s weird how we find something as normal as riding a bike to be normal and Anne Frank longed to do it,” he said reading a quote on a pink wall.

“Or whistle.”

“It makes you think how lucky we are that there is no war going on about, no World War Three, or that the UK is at war with some country and.” He shakes his head, the House getting to him, learning about Anne Frank’s day-to-day life hiding from the Nazi and still managing to remain positive.

Zayn squeezed his shoulder. “I know.” Niall cups his hand and gives him a wanning smile. And Zayn was feeling shitty once more. “You remind me of Anne Frank.”

“How?” he chuckled, walking to where there were photos of Anne Frank’s family.

“You want the five of us: you, Harry, Liam, Louis, and me, to be friends again,” he began. “Even after everything you still believe that we’ll be friends. I’ve seen you, I’ve seen when you talk about it, how people give you the doubt, saying you’re too idealistic, it’ll never happen,” he added, low. He tugged on his orange beanie as he looked across at a photo of Anne Frank’s father. “But you don’t give up, just like Anne, you still believe we’ll be friends. Someday.”

“Do you?”

“Honestly?” he started and Niall nodded, their gazes locked. “No.” He hung his head. “Louis hates the shit out of me, even more when I dissed him with Shahid. But Liam being my friend, then Calder, did I really start to believe it, too; that the five of us could be friends.”

Niall’s eyes twinkled at him, his smile growing and he was shining. He was literally shining and Zayn was quickly melting before him. 

“Don’t forget Harry, too,” Niall said, his tone simply happy, happy, happy. Zayn could not help himself but reach and rub his knuckles on his red cheeks. Niall lets out a breathless laugh, his eyes even more blue in the room than Zayn could ever think possible.

“You know what else I find remarkable between you and Anne?”

Niall shook his head, his smile still on his lips and Zayn smiled because really, a smiling Niall was all he should ever be.

“For some reason you always find beauty in everything; when all is going wrong, you wash it off, forget everybody else, and you laugh. Even when there’s nothing but misery around, you think of the beauty that remains and cling onto that.”

“It’s easy to find the beauty.”

Zayn shook his head slightly. “It’s not that easy.”

“Don’t think of all the misery, the sadness, difficulties, the—all of it. It’ll drive you mad.”

“But you can’t ignore it.”

Niall opened his mouth, but he shut it. “Anne chose not to see the wrong in her life, how everything was falling apart. She did not let it consume her instead choosing to believe that people are good at heart and focus on the remaining beauty that was happening during the Nazi times.” He turned to Zayn and clutches his arm. “That takes courage.”

Zayn could not grasp it. He was not a sad person, definitely not, he would rather look at the whole picture, not just the sun and the blue sea but the drying grass and the broken home to the corner of that picture. Anne, and Niall of course, simply saw the sun and the blue sea.

“Happiness can be found in the darkest of times,” said Niall, and it sounded as if he was quoting somewhere, some place. “One only needs to remember to turn on the light.” Zayn remained frowning, questions written on his face. “Albus Dumbledore.”

“Harry Potter again?” groaned Zayn, throwing his head back. Niall giggled beside him and he moved to begin reading the descriptions below the photographs hung on the wall.

After the Anne Frank House, it was nearing 6 o’clock and Niall, being Niall, suggested they go for food. He had not eaten since one-thirty in the afternoon and it was an achievement, really, it _was_. They found a cosy café a few streets over from the Anne Frank House and settled in, sat on opposite sides on comfortable, burgundy cushioned seats.

“Dutch?” groaned Zayn as soon as he picked the menu after ordering for their drinks; a pink Lucozade for Zayn and a beer for Niall.

Niall laughed picking his own menu. As he peeked up from his menu, Zayn was absently removing his orange beanie, placing it on the table, all with a small frown between his dark brows. His dark blue nose piercing looked gorgeous on him, he had to admit, and he looked so soft right now. Normally Zayn looks stressed from his job, his song writing, his Management, his projects, his family, his… everything. But right now his shoulders were relaxed, his eyes were light (save from his small frown at trying to understand the Dutch menu) and he looked soft around the edges, probably for the first time in a long time.

For some reason, his mind went back to a time when he was with Liam in the Wembley Stadium after training with the football team.

_“People aren’t meant to be together forever,” says Liam, lying flat on the lush green grass._

_Niall turns his head towards Liam. “You think so?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Now Niall is proper curious. “Why?”_

_Liam folds his hands below his head. “We never get forever.”_

_“What do we get?”_

_Silence envelopes them with the both of them looking idly up, watching clouds slowly move across the blue sky._

_“We get a ‘Hello’ and a ‘Goodbye’ and everything in between. The in between may be your forever but it isn’t because things end, people up and leave. You’re lucky if the in between lasts for years.”_

_Niall smiles. “Like in The Notebook?”_

_Liam grunts from near Niall. “You and that movie honestly.”_

_“It’s the best movie. It proves that love transcends through everything.”_

_“Yeah… whatever.”_

“Niall!”

He blinked out of his reverie. “Huh?”

“Been calling you for a while right now,” Zayn told him. His eyes were searching, worried. “You alright? You zoned out for a while.”

Niall looked down at his menu. “Yeah, m’good.”

A waiter came forth, asking for their order. It took a while, seeing as they could not read the menu, and the waiter gladly translated the menu for them. In the end, they both ended up ordering sandwiches and another round of beer for Niall.

“Hey,” said Zayn and Niall gave him all his attention, “remember when we were in Miami and you told me about people having little lights in them?” Niall nodded, drinking his Guinness. “Can you see little lights in people?”

“My Ma can. Unbelievable woman,” he said, fond deep in his voice. “Instantly, my Ma would know, could tell, if someone did not have all their lights, if they were dim, or if they had faded she would know.”

“Can you?”

“Not as good as her, of course. She could always tell, somehow, when my lights died, when they turned off and she’d find some way of lighting them again.” Niall paused, smiling in nostalgia.

“Is there a time when she saw the lights fade in you?”

“When we said we were on hiatus,” Niall said, combing his fingers through his hair. “Everyone wanted a break, a breather they called it, and I didn’t get a vote.” He absently twists his glass of beer. “So I faked it… till I made it. The media, the fans, Greg, Willie, Eóghan, Eleanor, fooled everyone but not Ma. When I walked through that house she instantly knew.” He laughs softly. “She said, ‘Where have ye lights gone, Chicken?’ and it felt so good to know that, um... felt nice that…”

“Someone knew?” Zayn tried and Niall nodded, chuckling in the process.

“So I told her, everything. I didn’t want to quit, didn’t want the hiatus, didn’t want 4/4 being a thing,” he said and Zayn averted his gaze from Niall to over his shoulder. “But it was all reality and in the process my little lights were going off. Think I was sulking for too long because Willie, Deo, and Eóghan showed up at my Ma’s door saying we were going to Asia.”

Zayn smile grew, slow, and his eyes twinkled at Niall who could not help but look away at the sudden attention. “Your Ma’s a magician, y’know that, right?”

Niall laughed. “She’s the best.”

Zayn squeezed his hand in response. Their food came through, a chicken sandwich for Zayn and a bacon sandwich for Niall with curly fries for the both of them.

“You’re missing out on this amazing bacon sandwich,” hummed Niall, chewing on his sandwich whole heartedly.

“It’s haram,” said Zayn.

“Keep forgetting!” Niall shook his head, chewing happily. “There’s turkey bacon, you know….”

Zayn shrugged weakly in response, preoccupied with adding BBQ sauce onto his sandwich.

“You’d never know, I would.”

“I did eat bacon once. Pork bacon,” Zayn said, squirting more BBQ sauce onto his sandwich. Niall gaped at him, questioning how that happened as he was a Muslim (and also at the excess sauce on his sandwich). “Ant gave me a sandwich with pork.”

Ant, or Anthony was Zayn’s ex-best friend. “Why would he do that?” he asked, still wondering how Zayn was able to eat pork.

“It was some party for his friend and he said he’d get us food,” said Zayn. He covered his sandwich with the top bun and drank his Lucozade. “So he brought it and, countless times I had told him why I don’t eat pork and he would get irritated because I kept stating it – you can never be sure.”

Niall nodded, engrossed in Zayn’s tale. He was intrigued by the story he was absently drinking his Guinness by now.

“But for some reason this one time I didn’t ask, maybe because I had told him countless times pork is haram or I didn’t want him to get pissed at me for reminding him so I accepted the sandwich and ate it.” Zayn breathed out. He still had not touched his sandwich and instead took a sip of his drink. “It was only when we went back to his place after the party, we were smoking, getting high and shit that he said he gave me a pork sandwich.”

“That cunt!”

Zayn smiled at him, albeit a sad smile. “I flipped. I was pissed off and angry and there was a lot of screaming and—I just left. Like two days later, my Dad knew about me eating pork.” Niall’s eyes widened and Zayn looked a little sacred, as if reliving that moment in time. “He kept saying I had no respect, that I was not a proper Muslim, that I had disobeyed Allah and all this time I couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell him the truth,” he added in a whisper.

“Why? You didn’t know!”

“He wouldn’t listen. So…” Zayn’s head ducked down and his voice low that Niall had to lean forward on the table. “When no one was at home he beat me, saying he didn’t raise a horrible Muslim and I tried, really, really hard to say Ant tricked me, it was a prank but.” He shrugged and looked to his left abruptly. Niall recognized that look: the I’m-done-talking look or more accurately, I-don’t-Want-To-Talk-About-This-Anymore.

“What did Anthony say?”

“He was sorry,” he scoffed and Niall knew he did not believe Anthony’s words. Zayn took a bite of his sandwich and Niall remembering belatedly that he had stopped eating. He cleared his throat loudly just then that Zayn looked at him curiously.

“I, Niall James Sivan Horan,” he announced loudly and Zayn rolled his eyes, “do solemnly swear on… this Guinness and my heart, to never, ever, offer you pork for as long as we both shall live.” Zayn quirked an eyebrow his way. Niall reached and stuck out his pinkie finger. “Promise?”

“Pinkie promise?” Zayn looked down at Niall’s short, pinkie finger. “What are we, 5-year old girls?”

“Oi! That’s sexist! Even 5-year old _boys_ pinkie promise. Now, c’mon.” Zayn rolled his eyes but nevertheless pinkie promised with Niall. “Ace.”

“Thanks,” Zayn chuckled. “Though no need for the pinkie.”

“How goes the Veterinary Medicine plan?” he inquired. Zayn lit up considerable and Niall could see the hundreds of little lights inside of him turning on like a Christmas tree.

“I started my research again. I still—If I do go through with it, I’d want to still go to Melbourne University. I would do a Bachelor of Science or Biomedicine—I think I’d do Science, to be honest—then a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine to qualify as a veterinarian. I can be a surgeon, Niall!” he exclaimed with a large grin.

Niall could not help but mimic his happiness, feeling just as excited for him even if the course was not exactly appealing to him.

“Here’s the thing though, I can afford for my education, so that’s good. No student loans to worry about. I can stay in Aussie for that long without a problem and somewhere along the line I can come back to the UK and be a proper veterinarian.”

“That’s sound sick!”

“I know,” he smiled, big and genuine, and Niall’s heart felt like cotton candy right now. But it deflated as soon as it came when Zayn’s smile wiped off his face in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

“What if I do all those years at the University and don’t make it? What if I do become a vet and—it’s not enough?”

“Not enough? How can it be _not_ enough?” he asked, befuddled.

“No one knows about me wanting to be a vet. Everyone thinks that my dream died when I auditioned for X Factor. No one asks because they think this is what I want. One time I told my family that—as a joke, right?” he added as an afterthought and Niall found himself nodding slowly. “So I said ‘What if I became a vet?’ and sure, it was a little far-fetched but I didn’t think they’d… um, be what they were.”

“Zayn, what happened when you told them?” he asked, feeling as if Zayn was not being entirely truthful.

“They didn’t react like I thought they would.” He idly played with his sandwich, turning it round on his plate as if buying time. “I mean, you can’t expect everyone to agree, sure, but—”

“What did they say?”

Zayn sat up in his seat. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter.” He determinedly drank his Lucozade.

Niall put his sandwich down. “What did they do?”

“Forget it, Niall,” Zayn maintained. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s _not_ nothing. This is obviously something important to you and your family’s reaction upset you, so it’s not bloody nothing.”

Zayn blinked, eyes widened in surprise. “Forget it.”

“What did they—”

“They laughed, okay?” he hissed at him and quickly bowed his head in shame.

Niall hung his mouth as he watched him. He was not expecting that. Not at all. Now he understood him better, when they were in Miami and Zayn kept telling him it did not matter if he wanted to be a vet because it never mattered in the first place, and this was the reason. He reached across the table and circled his fingers on Zayn’s ring and pinkie fingers. Niall was partially relieved he did not pull away (as he had all day) and his heart tugged at the stricken look on his face that looked like a 17-year old Zayn’s dreams being crushed.

“I’m sorry about your family’s reaction and there’s nothing I can say to take it away,” he told him and Zayn remained looking away so Niall tightened his grip. “But something my Ma told me is that any dream you’ve had, someone else has had it before… that’s just how it is.”

“That’s shit,” muttered Zayn. Niall nodded in agreement.

“But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t chase your dreams, _your_ _own_ _dreams_ , not your parents, or family, or friends, or fucking anyone, but your own. You spend so much time chasing other people’s dreams you’ll never like who you are when you catch them.”

His words struck something within Zayn because he turned his head, holding his gaze. Zayn turned and twisted their fingers now holding his hand in his with Niall looking down at their threaded fingers on the table, then looking up to find Zayn had not stopped gazing at him.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he said after moments of silence passed between them.

“You already began researching about vet medicine and the university so that’s a start. Plus, you don’t have to do it right now… take your time, sort through your life and all, then begin. There is no right time to start your dreams.”

Zayn laughed at the cheesiness of the line but it nevertheless made him feel better. “What was it that you wanted to do that your Mom told you that?”

“I told her I wanted to be an astronaut.”

“Astronaut?” Zayn questioned, surprise evident in his voice.

Niall gleed. “I loved reading about astrophysics and Greek mythology and constellations and all that mambo jambo. Plus if I did become an astronaut, I’d be the first Irish on the moon.” He winked at Zayn who chuckled in turn.

“What happened between then and now?”

Niall chuckled, taking the last bite of his sandwich. “Greg said he didn’t want to learn how to play a guitar so I picked it up and…” he waved his hands around slowly trying to convey how his life career choice had suddenly changed, “music was my thing.”

“No Law?”

“Law came later,” he winked. Zayn hummed noncommittally not expanding more on that area. They had time to do that, later, but for now, they finished their sandwiches, talking about the buzz of tomorrow: the VMAs. As they were finishing their desert, a fan interrupted them. She was stoked to see Niall, belatedly noticing Zayn, and asked for photos and autographs.

“I can take them for you,” suggested Zayn kindly.

“I wanted all of us to be in the photo,” she said, confused at Zayn’s suggestion. She flagged down a waiter and speaking in Dutch, asked him to take a photo of the three of them. She sat near Niall on his seat as the waiter took plenty photos of them.

“Can I take one of the two of you?” she asked.

“Sure,” agreed Niall after sending a silent question to Zayn who nodded back. She snapped photos, taking a little long according to Niall and he wondered how many photos she was taking, or needed, until she lowered her phone and immensely thanked them.

“We’re so happy to see you both,” she said gushing. “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves in Amsterdam.”

“It’s a beautiful city,” commented Niall. The fan smiled widely so he went on. “We,” he looked over at Zayn, “went to the Anne Frank House.”

“It’s breath-taking, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he agreed.

“I hope you both win at the VMAs tomorrow!”

“Will you be coming?”

“Of course,” she practically jogged on the spot with excitement. “I’ve got front row.”

“Can’t wait.”

“I hope it’s not rude but can you follow me on Twitter?” she inquired, timidly.

“S’not rude at all, love,” said Niall. He took out his phone and opened his Twitter App. “Here.”

She looked as if she was about to faint, holding Niall’s phone in her hands and all, but she took the phone and typed in her Twitter account name. Meanwhile, Zayn winked Niall’s way who stuck out his tongue in response—and feeling his cheeks and ears burn red. She returned his phone and saw he was following her on Twitter.

“Thank you so much, Niall,” she grinned and turned to Zayn. “So nice to meet you and Amsterdam loves your album, Mind of Mine.”

Zayn did a little bow of his head. “Safe. Thank you so much.”

“Isn’t she sweet?” inquired Niall once the fan had bid her goodbyes and walked to her table just a few seats over in the café.

“She looked like she would pass out when you gave her your phone.”

Niall laughed. “I know it’s mean,  a little, but I love doing that. So far, nine fans have fainted when I did that.”

“Nine? Nine fans?”

Niall continued laughing. “It was hilarious. El thinks I should stop—”

“—I agree with her.”

“But you should see their faces. Others are boring and only look frozen”

“You’re impossible, Niall.”

As they finished their deserts, Niall set his credit card to pay at which Zayn pouted, protesting. Niall said it was him to had the idea of coming to the restaurant therefore should pay to which Zayn adorably battered his eyelashes and pouted even more and Niall almost gave in. Almost. Thank goodness for the swift waiter or else he would have let Zayn pay. As they were heading to the door, Zayn remembered he had forgotten his beanie so he rushed back for it.

As he was meeting Niall by the door, a man about their size, jumped Zayn in a blitz attack. The restaurant was in a loud commotion instantly as Zayn and his attacker went spiralling to the floor. Niall was on his feet, running to where Zayn was and pushing off the attacker. He was stronger, his hands in a fist and punching Zayn’s jaw. Niall pushed the attacker off but it made no difference as Zayn was pinned down by him and he was blocking any more punches to his face.

Niall put him in a headlock, his arm around his neck, and pressed him to his chest so as not to hurt Zayn anymore with fist punches. The attacker pushed both of them back, Niall landing painfully on his back. He cursed the attacker for hitting Zayn meanwhile he was slapping Niall’s arm off, oxygen becoming a necessity for him.

“Niall stop! He’s not breathing!” Zayn exclaimed attempting to tangle the attacker free, nevermind his bruised jaw and bust lip. “Niall, let him go.”

Finally Niall relented and the attacker got off him immediately and was on his feet, Niall soon thereafter.

“You’re a scumbag,” the attacker spat. “You’re were there during the terrorist attacks and you’re part of them dressed as a failed musici—” He never finished his insult as Niall, from behind, grabbed his head and hit it against the wood pillar to their right.

Zayn held Niall back before he attacked the man, yet again. “Stop it, Niall. There’re people watching and you could be arrested.”

“He had no right,” he yelled, not looking at Zayn but at the attacker holding his head where he had painfully bumped his head. “You don’t know him at all.”

“I do,” he retorted. “He’s a racist, bombing our cities with his Al-Qaeda friends! He should go back to Afghanistan where he’s from and not come back.”

“You bloody…” Niall jumped forward, reading to punch him but Zayn pushed him back, reminding him that it was not worth it.

“Listen to the terrorist,” he said, laughing wickedly.

“You’re the terrorist, you white piece of fucking shit!”

“Niall, stop it. Leave him alone, he’s not worth your time.”

Niall did not hear what Zayn said, too infuriated by the attacker’s words, he pushed Zayn aside and jumped him. The attacker saw him coming, too quick for him, and headed for Zayn who did not see him coming, too busy trying to stop Niall from hitting him, and he flew down to the floor, getting a few punches in on Zayn.

Finally, several people from the restaurant came forward and pulled the attacker away from Zayn, others helping Zayn sit up. Niall got off the floor and rushed to where Zayn was.

“Everyone move,” he commanded and they moved away from him like ripples on water. He bent down, cupping his face in his hands, asking, “You okay?”

Zayn nodded shyly. He ignored the attackers screams at Zayn, hurling racist comments about him, instead focusing on his bruised cheeks, and bust lip and other injuries he knows he knows are there but cannot see.

“Where does it hurt?”

Zayn shook his head, his head ducked down.

“Zayn…” he prompted.

“Nowhere,” he answered him, voice low and quiet.

“You need an ambulance in case you’ve—”

“No, I’m fine,” Zayn said and Niall did not insist further. He looked up, seeing their waiter and asking for a bowl of water. He left and Niall’s heart ached when Zayn’s whiskey eyes looked at him. He was unmistakeably fragile, here on the floor of the café, eyes gazing at him through his long eyelashes.

Niall could feel the spread of color on his cheeks, his hand on the back of Zayn’s neck. Zayn turned down his head and pressed his lips to Niall’s pulse point and gazed up at him. He licked his lips, Niall following the movement intently, seeing Zayn delicious lips in a new light, not even if the corner of his bottom lip was bleeding.

Zayn inched forward, Niall’s hand absentmindedly pulling his head closer to his, closer to his delicious, to taste Zayn on his—

Belatedly his surroundings came back to him. He cleared his throat not too loudly but enough to alert Zayn. Zayn blinked, and quickly looked around as if noticing he was in fact surrounded by people and it had not been just him and Niall on the floor at this café.

The waiter came back with ice and water for Zayn. Niall helped Zayn and thereafter the police walked through the café, arresting the attacker and questioning Zayn who said he would not be pressing charges. Niall squelched his angry protests – this was about Zayn not him – and smiled politely at the Dutch police.

Shutting the Hilton hotel door behind him, Niall was taken by surprise when Zayn pulled him into a rough kiss. He was holding Niall’s shirt like a lifeline and pulling him away from the door, stumbling into the large living room of the hotel. He spun the both of them, their lips parting for the second it took for Zayn pressing himself to the wall and pulling a flustered and turned on Niall to him, chest to chest, and locked their lips together.

Niall moaned into the kiss, chasing Zayn’s tongue with his, his hands on Zayn’s hips, underneath his black tee. He kissed him harder, biting on his bottom lip and Zayn dug his fingers deeper into Niall’s hair, so soft and cottony. He licked his bottom lip, then into his mouth again, not getting enough of tasting Zayn. He licked deeper into Zayn’s mouth, as if chasing something inside of it. Whatever it was, it was warm, spicy and… lots and lots of whiskey. And _Zayn_.

“Fuck,” breathed Niall, his forehead pressed to Zayn’s. He felt Zayn’s warm breathes on his lips, too, his hands slow on his warm neck.

“Right?” laughed Zayn, barely breathing.

Niall leaned back in, his kisses feather light on Zayn’s lips, his hands soft underneath Zayn’s black Tee. Zayn responded by kissing him back, Niall’s lips warm and missing them on his own. They kissed harder than before, with vigor, their hands all over each other, their chests pressed together, until all Niall could taste was just Zayn, Zayn, Zayn.

Niall’s body was thrown back on the large bed, blinking around him wondering how he even got here – not remembering his feet ever leaving the floor – and moaning as Zayn’s warm lips trailed along his jaw, down to his neck and along his shoulder. Niall brought his knees up and caged Zayn’s body between his thighs.

“Zayn,” he could barely pronounce his name. Zayn was biting on his pale white skin where his neck met with his shoulder. He shut his eyes tightly, Zayn’s tongue and teeth and _the moans_ going straight to his cock.

“Fuck,” he cursed.

If Zayn continued like this he was going to be hard – not that he was not – but for some reason, he did not want to get hard, not like this, not after what happened today. So when Zayn pulled back, not before running his tongue on what Niall presumed was a love bite the size of Asia, he flipped them on the bed.

He was straddled Zayn, the half-Pakistani below gazing up at him with wide curious eyes, his hands flat around his head and his chest moving up and down beneath his shirt.

“Off,” he ordered, tugging on Zayn’s shirt. He wasted no time in pulling of his shirt… and it getting stuck around his head and arms.

“I can’t get it off,” Zayn groaned, the shirt covering his head. Niall laughed at him, hands on his V-line. “Not funny Niall.”

“It is, you gotta admit,” he laughed some more but this time helped Zayn get off his Tee. Niall pressed a feather-light kisses to where Zayn’s winged tattoo was, one on each wing but not on the red lips – that would be a little weird. As he was trailing kisses along his chest, his shirt was being pulled, more than the normal pulling and he pulled back to gaze down at Zayn.

“Off,” he barely whispered. He sat up, still straddling Zayn, and as slow as he could (and from the countless of romcoms he has watched), took off his white, long-sleeved shirt, hoping it came off as sexy and not, well, _lame_. It seemed to work as Zayn’s cheeks were a deep red, something Niall had never seen before, not even when Zayn was ever deep in Embarrassment Ville had his cheeks been this _crimson_.

Niall decided, then, that he loved it. Loved this shade on Zayn. He kissed both his cheeks, brushing his lips with Zayn’s who chased his lips but Niall had other plans, so he let Zayn’s head fall back on the bed, with a whimper on his rosy, glossy lips.

Niall littered his upper body in love bites, literally. There were several on his neck, just below his ear, on his shoulder, where his pulse points were just so people could easily see them. He left red marks on his arms which were harder to see what with Zayn’s countless tattoos. Zayn was a moaning, whimpering mess and at Niall’s mercy with his tongue. His head was thrown back, as Niall grinded on the skin where his shoulder blade was, eyes rolling to the back of his head as Niall bit on the skin below his armpit, his fingers digging into Niall’s hot back as his tongue lapped on the eleventh love bite on his neck… he loved every second of it.

“I like you,” he murmured to Niall’s lips. He felt Niall’s smile on his lips and then soft giggles. His arm tightened around Niall’s back as Niall continued smiling against his lips. “I like you,” he repeated peppering Niall’s swollen, red lips with his which did not keep giggling and chuckling.

And really, there was nothing better than tasting someone’s giggles on your lips.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd love to go to the anne frank house someday, though those stairs *groans lightly* 
> 
> KUDOS & APPRECIATION are highly appreciated ☺ leave a comment -- or even a symbol, whatever you like. take care sons ♦


	25. MTV VMAs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn travels to Bradford to tell his parents of his sexual orientation... and Niall comes to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's going to get a little violent... warned ♦

 

> **I see your true colours, shining through**  
>  **I see your true colours, that’s why I love you**  
>  **So don’t be afraid to let them show**  
>  **Your true colours**  
>  **~ Cyndi Laupe**

 

“Next time you have sex, please avoid the neck area knowing very well you have a show to attend.”

Niall groaned loudly in Chris’ face as he was trying to powder away the love bite marks along his neck. Chris was his new stylist, more specifically he was the one-night stand he had back when he was attending People’s Choice in Miami. Turned out Chris was an upcoming stylist and Eleanor was constantly busy with her vlog and blog that Chris lessened her work and hired Chris on the spot.

“We didn’t have sex.” His neck was red and his cheeks were on flames. “It was just a—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” said Chris, waving him off. “Pretty sure your fucking hot boyfriend wouldn’t want to hear what we were up to in your hotel room.”

Now Niall was sure his cheeks were pure red. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Chris levelled him with a look. “And I’m Chris Rock.”

“No, really, he isn’t,” Niall found himself admitting.

“Don’t tell me he’s one of those judgmental gay dudes afraid of commitment.”

“Not commitment… just homophobic,” said Niall then corrected himself later, “Not that. I meant he’s afraid of being out there… and gay. An open gay man is what I mean.”

“And what? He’s going to be in the closet for the rest of his life?” questioned Chris but did not wait for Niall to answer. He was already patting powder to his neck as he continued, “Wait your life until he’s ready? Niall,” he looked at Niall pointedly, “sweetie, you don’t deserve to be with someone who isn’t sure with himself.”

“That’s not Zayn at all.”

“I was once with a guy who claimed that he wasn’t ready to be out of the closet. We would date in secret, not telling anyone because he didn’t want people knowing and I wanted to tell people but because I liked him, I didn’t.”

Niall was afraid to ask but he did, “What happened?”

“I ended it,” sighed Chris. He did not seem as if it was a big loss to him but something clicked in Niall.

“Why?”

“I couldn’t be around someone who made me feel less than I was. Someone who wasn’t proud of me, who didn’t want to tell the world they were dating me because news flash, being gay is part and parcel of me so if I have to hide it, then fuck yourself.”

Was this him? Niall wondered. He was hiding a part of himself from the world. Despite coming out to his Ma, friends, and cousins, he could not come out to the world, even if he wanted to. He was finally comfortable in his own skin, even Bobby had called him, a phone call he never saw coming (he suspects Ma called to tell him), congratulating him with a _wherever you go, whoever you become, whatever you do, I’ll always be proud of ye, son !_

But Zayn…

He promised him he would wait but for how long? Chris did have a point. He did not want to wait around for Zayn to be ready only for him to tell Niall he was not ready. Ever. But yesterday, with the kisses and the love bites and the _Zayn_ , it was hard to believe he did not feel the same way.

“I trust him,” he told Chris.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, sweetie,” Chris said. “All done. No love bites on your neck so no awkward questions for paps and other celebrities.”

“Thank goodness,” chuckled Niall, looking himself into the mirror. He turned around to face Chris. “You’re really good.”

“Did you doubt me, sweetie?”

“Not for one second.”

“Even I can hear the lie in that voice,” snorted Chris. “Before I leave, Eleanor told Liam to tell your stylist – meaning me – to take water and your medication.”

“Thanks. Not really medication but pills for my knee.”

Chris gave him a once-over. “What happened to your knee?”

“Football accident.”

“Ouch!”

“Hey,” he called Chris who was heading out the dressing room, “did you find someone after… the other one?”

“A blue-eyed Irish man who lied he was English.”

Niall was stunned. He was talking about him? Moments of silence passed between them, Chris smirking knowingly as he openly looked at Niall and the Irish man staring open-mouthed at Chris. Niall cleared his throat, excusing himself to go check on his equipment. He quickly walked out, not looking back at Chris’ eyes on his back, and found Liam in his dressing room along with Eleanor.

“You’re here! You’ll never guess who is your stylist?” Eleanor practically squealed in excitement.

“Chris. I met him.”

“I wish I saw your face,” she laughed. “I bet it was the funniest thing in the world.”

“Not as funny as him trying to conceal the hickies on my neck,” grumbled Niall, unknowingly pulling at his collar.

“He’s good,” said Liam, now standing by his side and looking to his neck, “You can barely see anything.”

“Chris is the best, isn’t he?”

“Where’s Zayn?”

“Out for a smoke,” explained Liam. “Is it weird I’m nervous?” Niall’s mind was far away and Eleanor was tapping on her phone. “I haven’t been on stage in centuries so I might stumble over my words. But I can’t because I missed the stage, the singing, the all—hey! How is no one listening to me?”

Eleanor looked up from her phone, her face nonchalant. “Blah blah blah, Liam.”

And it was all a blur to Niall, thereafter. He walked down the red carpet solo, Eleanor walking with four other IT girls, Liam and Zayn walking together and if the red carpet fame lasted longer than anyone else’s (apart from Beyoncé) then Niall never noticed.

The show started with a bang, Niall not hearing who the Hosts were nor who was performing nor who the winners of the first several categories. He was seated in the third row, Zayn to his left, Liam and Eleanor on his right. As always, celebrities bigger than him were at the front row a.k.a Beyoncé, Drake, Adele… more celebrities that Niall stopped noticing as their faces were mashing together in his brain.

“Are you nervous?” Zayn asked, his lips brushing his earlobe.

“Yeah.” He nervously chuckled and combed his styled hair which Chris would murder him for ruining. “Liam’s a wreck.”

“Am not,” Liam said above what the Host was saying.

From the corner of his eye, Niall could see Zayn was looking at him curiously but he persisted and looked forward, pretending to listen to what the Host was saying.

“… and the Best Pop Video is… _Formation_ by Beyoncé!”

Niall was too into his head that he did not notice he was the only sitting down and not clapping as Beyoncé walked up to accept her bronze gong. Liam knocked him on his shoulder and he quickly got on his feet, belatedly as everyone was sitting down as Beyoncé started her Speech.

This happened several times after: he would forget to stand as Beyoncé (yet again) won another award for her album, Lemonade, he would look dazed as a performer was on stage not hearing Eleanor make snarky comments about them, he did not sing along to Justin Bieber’s _Sorry_ which he did whenever and wherever the song came on, nor did he shake Zayn when Adele won _Best Direction_ or really, just for winning.

Zayn knew something was bugging Niall when Troye Sivan himself was on stage, performing a song from his Blue Neighbourhood album and Niall did not react. Nothing. At. All. It was when Zayn poked his side, in Niall’s mind that meant Beyoncé (again) was going on stage to receive an Award for something from her Lemonade album, so he stood up – alone – and clapping obnoxiously.

“Fuck!” he cursed. He quickly excused himself, stating he had to poop to which those around the second, third and fourth rows looked on curiously but Niall did not care, his good and bad knees walked him off the audience area and he was somewhere with lots and lots of food. Thank the heavens.

He piled his blue paper plate with snacks, the light brown snacks, the salty looking ones, sugary ones, squishy ones, circular ones, several triangle looking cakes… _oh my days!_ are those croissants? It was rare to find small croissants at Award shows.

He was on his second plate when Liam found him seated on the cement floor, back against the black wall, chewing on a small piece of fruit cake.

“Beyoncé won again,” Liam said, sitting himself down beside Niall. “Best Collaboration for her song with Kendrick Lamar.”

“This year’s VMAs should’ve been called Beyoncé’s VMAs.” He drank the last of his second can of Sprite. “No point of the rest of us coming.”

“Apart from performers.”

“She’s also performing,” Niall pointed out, opening another can of Sprite.

“How many croissants have you eaten?”

“Stop judging,” Niall mumbled in between bites of cookies. “I didn’t eat lunch.”

Liam snorted. “Yeah right.” A silence befalls them. Beyoncé, once again, was announced as the Best Choreography for her song _Sorry_. “What happened back there, Nialler? You just stormed off….”

Niall sunk into the wall and munched on a cookie. “You know about me and Zayn, right?”

“I think the _entire world_ knows about you two, pal. You’d be blind not to. Are you dating or?”

“No. I told him that I’d wait until he was ready. Comfortable with himself,” Niall places the Sprite can on his right knee, “and now I don’t know how long that’ll be.”

“He needs time.”

“He needs time to date me?”

“You know that’s not it. Not with Zayn.” When Niall did not respond to Liam, he asked, “Where’s this coming from?”

“Chris, my stylist, told me of some guy he dated. He wasn’t ready to come out but Chris was and he felt like he had to hide a part of himself and he didn’t want that.”

“It’s not you and Zayn, that’s Chris’ problem,” Liam told Niall, firmly. Niall looked up at Liam and gave him a weak smile. Liam run his palm down his face. “I can’t do this anymore with the both of you. We went through this pining and whining with Harry and Louis now I can’t do this with you and Zayn.”

Niall frowned. “Larry is different.”

“It sounds like you’re giving Zayn a million reasons that he will let go and not be with you when in fact he has given you a millions reasons as to why he’ll stay.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh really?” Liam challenged. “How about you not coming for Eid? Because he didn’t say he loves you? Because he didn’t admit it? Did you have to hear it—”

“Yes!” he exclaimed.

Liam ignored him and continued, “When he shows you every single day that he does? Has he given you any reason to doubt him, Nialler? Even 10 reasons? Or just one?” Niall’s brain goes into overdrive thinking of the ways in which Zayn did show him a reason that he did not feel the same way. “See, you can’t come with anything. And why’s that?”

“I don’t know how long I can wait.”

Liam swatted his hand and he dropped his chocolate cookie. “Oi! I was eating that.”

Liam did not care as he had his thick brows furrowed and mouth turned upside down. “Are you kidding me? You promised you’d wait. You told Harry that you understood why he was uncomfortable – being gay and all – and here you are about to let go of it… just because he’s not ready?”

Niall made a mental note not to tell Harry everything when he was drunk. Or better yet, not get drunk around Harry.

“Harry was right. You were extremely lucky when you came out. Your parents, and Chris, were supportive. Greg, Eleanor, Willie, the gang, your friends, all of them, were supportive and not even one was on criticizing you about it. Sure, some took their time to wrap their head around it but in the end they loved you… how do you think Zayn feels?”

Niall slid his plate away from him, suddenly not feeling hungry.

“He is bloody worried about his family. You weren’t there at Eid, so you didn’t see it, Nialler. He loves, _loves_ his family and holds them in high respect and doing anything that would make them see him different or cause their unhappiness he doesn’t want that. Harry, El and I tried to convince him otherwise but he believed his parents wouldn’t be accepting if he told them he liked you.”

“Me? What’s wrong with me?”

Liam tugs on his hair. “Not _you_ , Nialler, but you as a boy.  Your sex. Him telling his family that he likes a boy won’t go down so well.”

“Ridiculous. His family is sweet.”

“Zayn believes otherwise. And not just that, what will the world think? But he could care less, he’s just worried about family.” Liam placed his hand on Niall’s bad knee. “But he wants to, for you. He knows how happy it’ll make you so he’s trying, truly.”

“We live in the 21st century, Payno,” said Niall, as if reminding Liam of the obvious fact. “People aren’t closed-minded anymore. We’re more accepting than we were before.”

“So? What does that mean when your family, to use your words, is ‘closed-minded?’”

Niall was shaking his head at Liam even before he finished his sentence. “Not Zayn’s parents.”

“We grew up differently. Your family is not Zayn’s like how my family is not like Harry’s.”

“But that’s not even the point, Payno. What if he’s never ready?” he said, his voice higher than Liam’s. “I just.” Niall paused, ducking his head down. His eyes were trained on the paper plate of snacks left unattended. “Why can’t he hold me in the street? Why can’t I kiss him openly without needing to lookout for paps, fans, anyone really? Nobody fucking knows I like him. A lot. And I want people to know. I want to shout it from the rooftops because.” Niall runs both of his hands through his cottony hair. “Because I’m his, I’m already his.”

“And he’s yours, too.”

“Is he Payno? Is he really? Why does it feel like he’s not? Why do—what are you looking at?”

Niall turned his head to his right where Liam’s attention was focused. His eyes widened at seeing Zayn standing there, expressionless and… small.

“Zayn,” he called out, voice low. He was getting up as Zayn spoke, “You’re about to perform.” He called his name again but Zayn had turned around and walked off. “Fuck!” he cursed. “Do you think he heard?”

“Pretty sure he did.”

“I’m so screwed.”

“C’mon,” Liam tugged at his elbow, signalling to head the other way at which Zayn came from, “we’ll be more screwed if we don’t perform your song.”

 

 

Niall looked longingly down the corridor but with the heavy presence of Liam pulling him backward, he walked the other way. He performed _Human_ on autopilot, not really giving it his all. To the fans, they could not sense it, sense that something was off because Niall was giving the performance of his life on stage, and then Liam taking the choruses of the song, truly brought the crowd cheering them on.

He was told to wait backstage, as the category he was nominated for, Best New Artist, was about to be announced by Drake.

_“And the Award for Best New Artist goes to… Meghan Trainor!”_

“What the fuck?” grunted Niall as _Dear Future Husband_ played and cheers and applause followed. Liam raised an eyebrow his way and turned to the TV screen which showed Meghan Trainor accepting the gong from Drake.

_“Thank you so much for this award.”_

“Who the fuck does she think she is!”

_“I would like to thank my fans immensely for this as they have been with me, voting online always, and to….”_

She went ahead to list other people she was thankful for. In the meantime, Niall was pacing up and down, muttering, _Screw her!_ , under his breath though loud enough for those in the back room to hear him.

_“… lastly, this town isn’t big enough for the both of us…”_

“Did she just…?” Niall was stunned to let his sentence peter out. Liam’s eyes were wide and the rest of the people in the back room did not notice a thing.

 _“… so Niall Horan, how about_ you _go suck your own dick! Thank you very much.”_

She walked off the stage with a laughing Drake and to deafening applause.

“That fucking bitch!” Niall yelled. “How dare she? Who does she think she is?”

“I thought you and Meghan were good?”

“Fuck her! I’ll show her that she isn’t all about that bass,” he gritted his teeth and stomped off, Liam following hurriedly.

“Sorry, bud.”

“I’m fine, Payno… apart from the obvious,” he said and Liam gave him the ‘You don’t need to be strong for me’ look. “I got to perform you know.”

“Yeah… but.” Liam shut up when Niall gave him the glare, not a full one as the corners of his lips were tugging upward. As they headed back to their seats, walking along the corridors more like Niall stomping and Liam walking speedily to catch up, Liam spoke up, “You want one good reason to wait? To wait until Zayn is ready?”

“You have a reason?” he asked incredulously. “Remember when you told me people aren’t meant to be together forever?”

Liam actually laughed, recalling the time. “We were young, we were dumb… we were full of rum.”

“A, it was this year, B we aren’t that dumb and C, we were sober as fuck.”

Liam spares him a grin before it was wiped off his face. “He loves you, truly, and that’s a damn good reason if there ever was any. All the millions of reasons you put in your head about him leaving, this should trump all of them.”

Niall looked at Liam, still walking, unbelieving. “Plus those hickies on your neck should’ve been obvious.” On impulse, Niall’s hand flies to his neck to cover his love bites but then remembered that Chris powdered them off so he lets his hand fall to his side. “You are loved more than you know, Nialler. More than you know,” he added, softer this time.

They sat at their seats, Zayn missing and Eleanor explaining, as Twenty One Pilots perform _Heathens_ , he had been called as they were about to announce the video for Best Visual Effects.

“That Meghan Trainor is an asshole!” Niall cried, attracting the attention of those in the second row and seated near him on the third row.

“Hush!” Eleanor hissed. “You have a reputation to uphold. Or do you want Steve to call you? And Elena?”

“She told me to suck a dick,” Niall grunted loudly, seeing as Liam was sat in between them.

“But you’re the bigger person here,” commented Eleanor in her no-nonsense tone. Liam suddenly was clapping, the both of them pulling apart from each other as his being pushed, and they turned their attention to the front. Zayn’s song, _PILLOW TALK,_ was playing loudly in the audience as he won the category for Best Visual Effects.

“Holy fuck he won!” Niall exclaimed. He quickly took his phone out and recorded the moment Zayn, grinning and beaming, walked to Rihanna who was holding his metallic gong.

“I can’t thank the people that have been with me every day the past year enough. Being stood on this stage is crazy. My mum, my dad, everybody in my family that’s been supporting me the past year, especially my mum. Thank you, Mum.”

Eleanor coo’d loudly and Niall had a goofy grin on his face. If Liam looked closely at Niall, his eyes were shooting hearts at Zayn.

“Also, big thank you to you guys, the fans. I didn’t expect anybody to still vote for me. So thank you, and I’ll this on my fireplace.”

 _“_ And… to Meghan Trainor,” – Liam, Niall and Eleanor stood frozen in contrast to the rest of the audience who were applauding and in movement – “Niall isn’t sucking his own dick, that’d be weird.” The audience laughed, in good humour, Niall laughing harder than all of them and his cheeks flamed. “It’s mine he’s sucking.”

And everything stopped for the three of them. Eleanor gasped loudly, several heads turning to them. Liam’s mouth dropped down to his shoes and eyes looking like golf balls and Niall? He was laughing. He hand his hand clutched on his stomach, laughing loudly as the rest of the audience were caught between laughing, along with Niall, or being in a state of shock or, well, there was Meghan Trainor who was fuming from her seat.

“What the fuck happened?” Eleanor quickly asked, looking to her left.

“What was that?” Liam asked instead. They both turned to Niall, who was coming down from his high. “He looks high on something?”

“OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!” Eleanor muttered very quickly as Liam was looking at the empty stage and at Niall then at Eleanor who was waving her hands frantically around while uttering, “OMG! OMG! OMG!”

“What was that?” asked Liam, in a complete state of shock.

“Do you know what the fuck has just happened?” Eleanor demanded, her hands now digging into her hair. “He just outed Niall! He outed him! He fucking outed himself!”

“Zayn’s sucking your dick?” It was now Rihanna who had turned to the three of them.

“Yeah,” Niall smoothly answered.

“Sick, bruh,” she said and gave him a fist-bump.

Taking the stage was Nick Jonas performing his hit single, _Jealous_. People around were still buzzing, chattering amongst themselves attempting to sing along to Justin and _remain calm_ but it was futile. Up on social media accounts, Zayn’s acceptance Speech was being uploaded, alongside Meghan Trainor’s just in case Zayn’s speech was not understood fully. Towards the end of Nick Jonas’ performance, Zayn was making his way down the stairs and walking along the third row.

Nick had finished his performance and Zayn lunged his arms around Niall’s shoulders and mashing their lips together awkwardly. Niall blinked, his eyes staring back at Zayn’s closed ones. It took a few seconds for Niall’s brain to catch up and he closed his eyes and curved his hands around Zayn’s back.

Ariana Grande was making her way to the stage to announce the video for Best Cinematography. Eleanor and Liam’s eyes popped, fell to the floor and their jaws were unhinged. Some had their phones out already, others her humming loudly around them.

“When,” Zayn muttered breathlessly on his lips.

Niall’s brain was jelly at his point, his knees weak and holding tightly to Zayn’s dark blue jacket. “What?”

“You told me when, this is when,” he breathed.

“Huh?” Niall’s brain and mouth were muddled and befuddled and honestly all that surrounded him was Zayn’s minty smell and lips. Everything else was background noise. He found himself leaning in and kissing him proper.

Ariana Grande was on the stage but her eyes pierced through the audience and saw Niall and Zayn making out, openly. The fans by now, noticing Ariana not announcing the winner for Best Cinematography video, turned to look at the audience where celebrities and others were standing. Even the MTV cameras and turned and zoomed in on Ziall, kissing each other passionately, everything around them falling at their feet.

It was only when Rihanna cleared her throat rather loudly that reality snapped and Niall broke there heated, spur-of-the-moment kiss. She had a knowing smirk and winked Niall’s way when he turned to see who had cleared his… or her throat.

“Niall, if you’re quite finished, I’d love to announce the winner for the next category,” said Ariana, not unkind and everyone chuckled, including Ziall. Zayn quickly pecked Niall’s red cheeks and pulled Niall down to sit.

Beyoncé won the category, no surprise there, and no one knew exactly what happened thereafter. The MTV VMAs of 2016 was dominated by the Ziall kiss, and belatedly everyone remembering Beyoncé slaying the Award ceremonies by picking up most of the awards, but mostly Ziall.

“What was that?” questioned Niall, beaming at Zayn. They were in the bathroom, Niall needing to splash cold water on his face to stop his cheeks (and neck and chest) from reddening further and Zayn needing to pee.

“I like you,” he simply said, summarizing what he was feeling into those three words.

“This… this isn’t about earlier?” Niall was not one to dampen their mood but he had to make sure.

“It sort of is?” he answered him with a question. “Look, I want to make you happy, always. And if that means kissing you in public, holding hands, doing all that lovey dovey shit, then fine, I will tell everyone we are together.”

“You did this for me?”

“I want you make you happy, is that alright?”

“But… your family?”

“Are you not happy?”

“No!” Niall jumped and cupped Zayn’s cheeks with his hands. “I am, the happiest. But, are you happy?”

“You make me happy… and you don’t seem…”

“No, that’s not it,” he denied though his body language spoke a different story. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked him, voice unsure and it did something to Niall’s heart, something as make it ache and pain. “Niall?”

“Liam told me about your family that they won’t be accepting of… of you and…” _and me, a boy_ he did not need to add but it was loud and clear. Zayn scratched at his stubble, his eyes downcast. How had they gone from being on Cloud 9 to… this?

He walked over to Zayn and with two fingers, tilted his chin up so that they were on eye level. Zayn’s eyes were searching, but beyond, they were scared of what was to happen now. What would happen now that they told the world? Told the world their secret?

Niall circled his fingers to Zayn’s temple and, using his thumb, stroked the shell of his ear. Zayn fluttered his eyes shut, his long eyelashes fanning his cheek bones and Niall’s breath was taken away. Even in simplicity, Zayn was majestic.

“I’ll be there for you,” he whispered. That was all he had to say, all he could say to him, and Zayn moved forward resting his forehead on Niall’s shoulder. “I promise.” Zayn pulled back, his eyes vulnerable and wide at Niall who smiled as he softly kissed him.

“I believe you.”

**~          ~          *          ~             ~**

“So,” Niall called out, “I’ve managed to book the transport company for the wedding day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“We’re getting two large buses to get the guests from the cathedral to the venue.”

“That’s sick! M’s going to be proud.” Niall looked up as Eleanor made her way to the lawn area where Niall was drinking Guinness and texting Willie at the same time. He looked up and Eleanor twirled on the spot, her tribal pattern dress skin hugging her petite figure. “Whatcha think?”

“Looks good.”

“Good? I spent more than 80 pounds on this dress. It does not look _good_ but incredible.”

“S’what I meant,” said Niall, rolling his eyes and pressing send on his phone.

Eleanor huffed and sat opposite him on his couch lawn. “Hey, can you take me to the florist?”

“Sure. We can go at lunch time.”

“Have you gone to the caterer?”

“Harry said he’s free on Wednesday so we’ll go then. Oh speaking of, I forgot to tell you,” said Niall looking up from his phone with a large grin. “I took Gemma to the Dorchester, like I had tweeted that one time, and guess what?”

“What?”

“Harry was in the same place!”

Eleanor quirked an eyebrow. “How?”

“He stalked Gemma. Basically, she said she’d meet me after work and she came to the restaurant, right?” Niall narrated, laughter echoing his words. “So turns out, he had booked  a table by the wall where neither of us could see but he could see _us_ perfectly. It was only when I had come home that he sent pictures, or ‘evidence’ as he said of us and sent them to Michal and Zayn.” He rolled his eyes as he finished his sentence.

Eleanor was shaking her head in amusement. “When will he give up? You and Gemma have this undeniable connection—what why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s what I’m telling Harry,” Niall chuckled as he opened Harry’s WhatsApp chat, ready to type out his message. “Dear Hazza Bazza,” – Eleanor snorted – “Gemz the Babez and I have an undeniable connection. Don’t ruin Fate. Xoxo, Mr and Future Mrs Horan.” He was laughing by the end of it, and pressed send. “This is great. He’s going to have a fit.”

“He’s going to kill you is what he’s going to do.”

“Hmm,” Niall hummed as his phone buzzed. “Tricia’s calling.” He picked up the phone and greeted her. “Hey Tricia!”

_Hello Niall. Where are you?_

“I’m at home. Why?”

_I need… How fast… Can you get to Bradford?_

“Bradford?” he parroted. Tricia sounded distressed on the phone, more background noise as if a hundred people were standing behind her, all chatting at the same time. There was a scream, then, and Tricia hang up. “Tricia? Tricia!?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” said Niall, redialling. “She sounded anxious.” The phone rang, and rang, and went to voicemail. “Fuck!” He tried again, this time she answered on the first ring. “Tricia, what’s going on?”

_How fast can you get to Bradford?_

“Soon. Why?”

_Something’s happening… and… I need… please try and get here as soon as you can!_

Niall’s mind panicked. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

_It’s Zayn and… the others._

“Zayn? What’s wrong with Zayn?” he asked, his eyes shooting to Eleanor in concern. Eleanor mimicked his face, her eyes searching, wondering what was going on on the other end of the line.

_It’s… please just. Come. I can’t explain on the phone. Will you?_

“Is he safe?” he demanded.

_Just come. Please._

“I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and Eleanor was impatiently looking to him to explain what was going on. “I… I think Zayn’s in trouble. We have to go to Bradford now.”

“Course.”

Niall felt relief wash over him. He knew that Eleanor would have gone with him either way but it was one thing knowing and the other watching it happen. He squeezed her hand and she sent an understanding smile his way.

On the drive there, Niall let Eleanor drive his Range as he was calling Tricia relentlessly until her phone was switched off. He called Jawaad only to be surprised that he was in Southampton and in fact had no idea what was going on at the Malik household.

Niall’s foot slumped on the imaginary accelerator. “Can’t you drive any faster?”

“Do you want to crash your car?”

Niall pressed the back of his head to the head rest and groaned. He closed his eyes and counted down to zero. He did not make it passed seven when his mind started imagining the worst possible scenarios. His face was blanching by the minute and he started squirming away from the sharp jabs to his ribs.

“Stop that!”

“You’re pale.”

“Watch the road!” he ordered.

He heard her sigh and then a right turn was made. He kept his eyes road, somehow that reduced his anxiety by a quarter.

“He’s going to be fine, Nini. Zayn’s stronger than you think.” A warm hand circled his wrist. “No matter what we walk into, know that Zayn is stronger than you think.”

“I promised I’d be there for him. Look at me now.”

“But you are. Always. He doesn’t doubt that.”

Niall doubted her. He connected his phone to the car audio and listened to Troye Sivan’s album on repeat the whole trip to the Malik house. Even before Eleanor had parked, Niall was jumping out of the Range and running to the door. It was open, so he let himself in and—Where was everyone? !

He looked around, finding no one and then walked around the house to where it sounded as if someone was weeping. He followed the noise, gingerly—

“Niall?”

He spun around on the spot, coming face-to-face with… someone. Someone related to Zayn for sure, going by her long silky black hair, the fact that she resembled Hadiyya, but her name was not coming round.

“Where’s everyone?”

“You came!”

Niall spun around, again, and saw a teary Tricia standing before him. She looked small, scared, and her hands holding tightly onto a white shawl. Without thinking, he walked forward and bent to hug her.

“I’m so glad you came!” Her words muffled on his shoulder.

“Of course,” he smiled at her. “Where’s he?”

“There’s… there’s something you need to know.”

“Where’s Zayn?” he asked her, putting in urgency in his voice.

“I think you should sit down,” said the Someone-or-Other who resembled Hadiyya. Niall was at a loss: he wanted to find Zayn but the women before him looked upset and who was he to disobey Zayn’s mother? So he accepted the seat and sat down, Tricia opposite him and Eleanor walking into the room, joining them.

“No matter who Zayn loves,” began Tricia, bringing her shawl tighter around her shoulders, “he’ll always be my sunshine. No matter what.”

Niall swallowed. They knew. They knew about him and Zayn. He mentally slapped himself because _of course_ they knew, everyone knew what with the kiss at the MTV VMAs last Sunday.

“Zayn came home today, I think to tell us in person, that he was with you.” Tricia covered her eyes with one hand with her shoulders shaking. Khadija, Niall recognizing a familiar face, wrapped her hand around her shoulders.

“Auntie, you don’t need to tell him.”

“He has to know.”

Niall’s eyes darted between them, then to Eleanor who looked just as he was feeling: confused and on edge.

“I’ll tell him.”

Niall remained quiet, seeing as whatever had happened was taking a toll on them but also he wanted to see Zayn STAT.

“Zayn told us,” Khadija picked up from where Tricia left off, “that he was with you… like how he was with Gigi. Yaser didn’t like it, at all. He got angry, very angry, and started saying it wasn’t proper. It was proper for his son to be liking boys. To be liking _you_.”

Niall squared his shoulders and swallowed.

“Zayn said that he wanted to be with you and that it shouldn’t matter if he was dating Gigi or you, that it was all about love. He spoke highly of you.” She had a smile on her face and Tricia looked up, wiping her tears with the handkerchief in her hands. “Yaser didn’t like it. At all.”

“My little sunshine,” wept Tricia, voice cracking. Niall’s heart was thundering against his ribs, his palms sweaty that he found himself wiping them on his blue jeans.

“He picked Zayn up by his collar, called the rest of the men in the family to follow him. He dragged Zayn, who was shouting to let him go, upstairs and into the bathroom.”

Niall and Eleanor caught each other’s glances, then Niall looked to Tricia who was hunched and the Hadiyya-look-alike was soothing her. Niall truly did not like where this was heading.

“They began stripping him at the same time saying he was improper, he was wrong, and he… he’s meant to be a good Muslim, and being gay is not one of…” Khadija let her sentence peter out. She blinked rapidly at Niall, her eyes still glassy. “Auntie tried to stop him, telling him that he was his son and he shouldn’t be doing this.”

“In Urdu, Yaser said that no son of his was gay and he would make sure of it,” said the lady, the Hadiyya lookalike.

“What does that mean?” Eleanor asked and Niall wanted to know the same thing.

“Butrus was ordered to boil water and we were told to go back downstairs because this was a man-only ritual. Auntie refused and she remained where she was. I hid behind her so I watched the whole thing.”

By now Tricia was openly weeping beside the black-haired girl, unable to control herself and Eleanor had balancing tears. Someone-or-Other, Niall did not know her name but she looked familiar, quickly wiped the tracks on her cheeks as Khadija continued.

“They stripped him down completely to his nakedness, Faraj and Haytham held him down in the bathtub so Zayn couldn’t move at all. They…” her voice was shaky and watery and Niall did not want to hear what she had to say. He clenched his fists on top of his thighs. “They poured hot water on him, one pot after the other, they just kept pouring. He screamed, hard, begging them to stop, that the water was hot, too hot, it was burning his skin, and… you should’ve heard him, Niall. Begging his father to stop.”

Niall’s fingers scratch down on his jeans as his teeth grinded together.

“But he didn’t. The tub at some point was half full, Zayn submerged in it. He was choking, you could hear, asking Yaser to stop, that he was burning, that he couldn’t breathe.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?” he practically growled.

Tricia burst in tears, fresh ones and Niall looked away, not bearing to see Tricia breaking down for who knows how many times today. In the back of his mind, he vaguely recalled when he went to Doniya’s house, finding out Zayn was back for Eid and they had quarrelled over Zayn thinking he was wrong, he was wrong because he was gay and now he honestly was understanding. He was scared, scared of _this_.

“We couldn’t do anything. Yaser ordered Imad to make sure we didn’t move. He said he was teaching Zayn a lesson – teaching us a lesson – that we should never become what Zayn was.”

“ _What Zayn was_?” he parroted, angry now. He was seething on his seat, his nails digging into the wood.

“Yaser left him for a second and Auntie, thinking it was over, ran inside the bathtub but Junayd stopped him. They were not done.”

“Not done?” Eleanor echoed in fear.

“They shut the door this time, Junayd standing outside to make sure we didn’t enter. We banged on the door nevertheless, Auntie shouting that no one touch her son. No one should lay a finger on her sunshine.” Khadija took a large breath and looked at a crying Tricia. “They beat him senseless. We heard screaming, glass shattering, objects being thrown… and we could do nothing but stand there.”

Niall’s fingers chipped away at the wood on the chair he was seated on. He was breathing erratically, knowing his heart rate was above and beyond normal but it was all he could do to stop himself from screaming aloud, demanding where Yaser was, and killing him with his bare hands.

“Finally after what seemed like ages, the door opened and… I didn’t recognize him.”

Tricia cried loudly then, stopping Khadija from continuing. She was full on crying, and Niall suspected that this was the tone down version of what she was like earlier. He cannot imagine what she was going through when all of this was happening to her son, her only sunshine.

“What happened?” he nevertheless found himself asking. None of the women in the room spoke up, comforting each other including Eleanor who had Tricia laying on her shoulder as she cried. Niall abruptly stood up and paced up and down.

“My little boy was covered in bruises,” wept Tricia, Niall surprised to hear her talking. “He was naked and you could see the burns on his body, where they had beaten him. He was bleeding everywhere, his eye swollen and... and…” Tricia could not continue, everything overwhelming to her. She buried her head in Eleanor’s shoulder, proper howling and Niall’s heart ached painfully. _Where the fuck was Zayn?_

“Where is he?” he asked, practically roaring. Eleanor shot him a disapproving look which he promptly ignored.

“They dragged him like a piece of meat to Doniya’s bedroom. He was too weak to walk, you could tell, like he had given up. His entire back was covered in scratches, like claws. Auntie and I were allowed in the bedroom, Yaser stating that he was going to teach Auntie’s son a lesson.”

“Zayn is his son as well,” said Eleanor.

“Yaser had him pinned down by Mufaddal, Naji, and Qamar as he loomed over Zayn’s head. Auntie tried to stop him but Junayd wouldn’t let us pass. We tried but he would push us against the wall. For someone so thin, he is quite strong.”

Niall was cataloguing these names in his head, saving them for later when he would allow himself to lose control, less control than the time at the graveyard with Louis.

“What was he doing?” Eleanor’s voice was small and quiet and too afraid to ask. The women in the room all held their breathes, Tricia’s crying very loud in the room, very piercing and Niall’s heart was sinking with one question: Where. Is. Zayn?

“Yaser crushed his left hand, stepping on it very hard we heard the cracks and Zayn’s scream was so loud the neighbours heard. They came down to ring the doorbell but Yaser ordered to Mufaddal to tell Hawa tell them that it was nothing.”

Niall’s grip to the chair was tight, so tight his knuckles and whole hand was white but his face was red, fury red with wrath. If he saw Yaser right this moment…

“He stomped on it again, Zayn pulling his hand away but Naji and Qamar had a tight grips on his shoulders and arms. It… it didn’t look human. They… I can’t recall everything they did to him because it was too much.”

“You don’t need to, love,” said Eleanor soothingly.

“They choked him,” Tricia spoke up, her voice sounding off and it did not sound right to Niall’s ears. It was defeated and fragile and it would bring any man down to his knees. “My husband told Saif Al-Din  to wrap his hands around my sunshine and grip, grip it hard like a tomato unless Zayn said everything that happened with you was a joke.”

Niall started at Tricia’s words. His hold on the chair loosened and he gulped.

With tracks down her puffy cheeks, she barely held herself together as she recalled what her family did to her son. “Zayn kept quiet and Saif Al-Din  choked him. He called out for me, his Mom, asked me to ask my husband to stop, to make it stop but he said they would stop if he said it was all a joke.”

“Fuck!” Niall cursed.

“A mother should never see the day when her child dies but I saw it, I saw it coming and I could do nothing.”

Niall felt as if the air was punched out of his lungs and he could not breath. His entire body was glued on the spot and his hearing and vision disappearing. Did he hear correctly? ‘See the day when her child dies’? Is that what she said? Surely he was hearing his own things…

Eleanor had pulled away from Tricia, dumbfounded and shaking her head. “No… please tell me you’re lying.”

“He’s not dead!” screamed Niall startling everyone in the room. He picked the chair he had been sitting on and hit it on the ground, screaming angrily, “You’re lying, Tricia. He’s not dead!” He had angry wet tracks rolling down his cheeks. “Why didn’t you call me earlier? Why didn’t you tell me the moment they took him?” He threw the chair to his left and it hit a wall, breaking into pieces on impact. Several bodies jumped, startled. Tricia flinched, too, watching the pieces on the floor. “Why the fucking hell didn’t you fucking call me?”

“Niall, calm down!” the Hadiyya look-alike hissed.

“They choked him twice,” Khadija said, “before Yaser listened to Auntie demanding him to stop. He said he would give Zayn a break and continue later.”

Niall and Eleanor heaved a sigh of relief, Eleanor crying from it. Zayn was alive… despite everything. It was not over yet as the question as to where Zayn was not being answered.

“Where is he?” he demanded.

“When they left him in Doniya’s bedroom, they didn’t let us see him…”

Niall did not hear the rest of the sentence, his feet sprinting out of the room and up the stairs to Doniya’s room. He was panting loudly when he reached the top of the stairs and ran down the corridor to the last room. He banged on the door as he tried turning the knob. It was locked.

“Zayn!” he yelled, banging the door down. “Zayn!”

He pressed his ear to the door and heard nothing. He called for his name, trying the door knob, banging the door and listening out but he heard nothing.

Eleanor ran down the corridor to where Niall was banging on the door. “Is it locked?”

“Fucking assholes locked it.”

“Push against it!”

Niall tried, taking a few paces back then running into the door. It did not budge. He tried it, again and again, until his left arm began to ache but that did not deter him.  Though Eleanor did.

“Stop! Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I don’t fucking care. He’s in there. Alone. And in pain. And who knows what else? Who knows…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his tears to remain back. This was not the time and his brain was on overdrive wondering what state Zayn was in.

“Dija said that Yaser and the rest would be back any minute with tools that they needed to remove the gay out of him.”

“Tools?”

“I didn’t hear the rest as I was worried what you were up to.”

“We need a hammer.”

“A hammer?”

“To break the knob!”

“It’s in the basement.”

Niall and Eleanor spun on the spot, spooked that Tricia appeared out of nowhere. She asked in Urdu for Khadija to bring back a hammer from the basement where Yaser kept his tools. Khadija brought back the hammer and before Niall broke it, he silently asked for permission to which Tricia nodded.

He pushed passed the door and his eyes zoomed in on Zayn. He was curled in on himself in the middle of the bed, stark naked, and his hands above his head tied to the bed frame, painfully so.

“Eleanor get me his clothes in the blue cupboard, third drawer,” he instructed as he ran to the bed and Eleanor heading for Doniya’s closet.

Slowly, he climbed on the bed and took a shaky breath. He looked like he was sleeping, his knees pressed to his chest and hands limp from where they were tied tightly. True to Khadija’s words, Zayn’s back was littered with scratches, some were more than tiny scratch but going skin-deep. Up and down his thighs were blue and purple bruises, some large, others small, his arms had plenty more. His face, oh his face. Niall shut his eyes tightly but the image was stuck in his mind. All his piercings were off, as if someone had yanked the off seeing the dried dark crimson substance on his ears and lips. His right eye was massively swollen, his nose crooked and the cut on his lip worse than when he was punched in Amsterdam.

He opened his eyes and ran his finger on the open wound on his temple that shook Zayn out of his unconscious state. He looked frightened, his hands tugging down on the ropes tied around his arms, fragile and unmistakeably heartbroken. Zayn lloled his head toward Niall, his eyes locked with Niall’s and his breathing was slowing down to a relaxed state.

“I’m here,” he murmured softly as he palmed behind his ear. “You’re with me now.” Zayn did not say anything back, simply looking up at Niall.

“Sunshine?”

Zayn curled away from his mother’s worried voice. “Don’t let her see me, please.”

Niall looked up, finding Tricia and the rest with worried glances. They were all looking at the boy curling himself into Niall, Niall painfully aware of the red marks on his back not making the situation any better.

“Get me the sharpest knives you have.”

Tricia nodded and said something that Niall did not understand to the girl stood beside her. It was as if Tricia understood Zayn’s words because she remained hovering in the doorway to Doniya’s bedroom. Eleanor walked to the bed, with several clothes on her arms, and placed them on the edge of them bed.

“Thanks,” he said, then to Zayn: “I’m going to dress you now, alright?” Zayn nodded once, eyes closed. “Okay.”

He got off the bed and dressed Zayn in his boxers and comfortable sweat pants. He was trying his level best not to hurt him more, but he whimpered when clothing brushed across an open wound, when his hand touched on a painful part of his thigh where he had been bitten and each time it felt like a gunshot to his heart. The girl came back with several large knives which Tricia brought to give to Eleanor and only took a few steps back.

“I need you to cut slowly because his hand is broken and we might make it worse if we cut haphazardly.”

“Okay,” Eleanor nodded. They cut the ropes carefully, Zayn wincing below them at the pain on his broken hand, Niall murmuring it would be over soon, until it actually was. He handed the knives back to Eleanor and he began dressing Zayn in a simple tee.

“Can you sit up for me?” he asked and he nodded, silently. Niall helped him sit up, his back to the door and everyone else. Eleanor handed him a shirt and Niall dressed him as slow as he could, avoiding lingering contact with his injured skin.

“My hand hurts,” whimpered Zayn, low that only Niall heard.

“We’re going to the hospital.”

From where the rest were standing, they could not hear much, save for Eleanor. They watched as Niall carefully clothed their Zayn, his head slumped on Niall’s stomach as he clothed him adding a flannel on top of his grey shirt. They winced when Zayn pushed Niall away from him, bent forward, and vomited on the side of the bed.

“Water and bucket, now,” Niall asked and Eleanor was on it. Tricia stopped her, instead sending her nieces to go get what Niall asked.

Niall rubbed the back of his neck soothingly, speaking in soft tones none of them could hear. Zayn had a tight grip on Niall’s arm – the not broken hand – has he vomited once again to the floor. The nieces came back with bucket, water, ice and towels to which Eleanor brought forth to Niall.

“I need a spare T-shirt with long sleeves.”

“On it.” Eleanor walked back to the closet to look for a shirt with long sleeves. Meanwhile, Niall wrapped the ice in one of the extra clothes Eleanor left on the bed and pressed it to one of the bruises on Zayn’s face.

“It’ll help,” said Niall when Zayn flinched away. He tried again and Zayn turned his head sharply, shaking at Niall and he stopped. Instead he made a sling to which would keep Zayn’s left arm in an L-shaped until they went to a hospital, not forgetting to remove the rings on his fingers.

Zayn, with his right hand, held Niall’s wrist and placed it tentatively in the middle of his chest. Niall dared not break contact, now, holding the chestnut colored eyes with his sky blue and pressing on Zayn’s chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat on his palm.

With his other hand, Niall’s hand palmed his cheek, a little wet from the blood, and held his hand. Zayn turned his head – just a bit – leaning into Niall’s touch, his eyes fluttering shut, as if going to sleep. He opens them, not quite fully, as if to make sure that it was Niall hovering above him, Niall with his hand on his beating heart and not _someone else_.

“Take me home.”

Everyone heard it, the words whispered from Zayn’s split lips, and it was Tricia’s heart that broke most. He watched her sunshine from the doorway being taken care of by a man she barely knew but truly cared for her son, in more ways than she ever could.

“Niall, you have to leave,” she warned. “Yaser’s coming.”

The warning came almost too late. As Niall, Eleanor and Zayn made it to the bottom stairs, Yaser and several other men walked in. Both parties froze, one not expecting the other but everything clicked and everyone was running in circles. Niall pulled Zayn and Eleanor towards the door leading into the backyard as Yaser ordered the men to catch him.

“Go to the car and get it ready we’ll meet you there,” said Niall as they temporarily hid behind several stacked chairs. Zayn could not run fast, already out of breath and stumbling his way around.

“I can’t leave.”

“We have no time, El. If we don’t get out of here Zayn’s in big trouble.”

That resonated within Eleanor who nodded once at Niall. “Will you be safe?”

“We will.”

Eleanor peeked out from the stacked chairs before she ran off, hopefully safely towards his Range. There was no time to rest as voices speaking in Urdu or Arabic were close by.

“We have to go,” he told Zayn who was heavily leaning against the stacked chairs.

“I feel so weak.”

“I know and I’m so sorry,” said Niall. He had a gentle hold on Zayn’s face, his other hand on his arm. “But if we don’t leave right now who knows what will happen to us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” he asked. The voices were nearing them.

“I told you I too much was wrong with me—” Niall put a hand on Zayn’s mouth to shut him up when one of the voices was right near the stacked chairs. Niall breathed through his nose, his heart beating like a sledge hammer. Zayn, on the other hand, was frowning hard and his eyes tightly shut as if trying to disappear from this moment.

Once the voices moved away from their hiding place, Niall deemed it safe to remove his hand at which Zayn spoke, whispering, “They saw Eleanor heading towards the car.”

“Fuck me!” It was one thing to worry for Zayn but now El, too? “Listen, Zayn, I know everything is fucked right now but please, please find it in you to get to the car. Please.”

Zayn nodded, “Okay,” and they sneakily made their way to Niall’s Range, managing to dodge the Malik family men and following Zayn’s sneaky routes to the front of the house without going through the house. They were crouched behind his Range, Niall looking up through the window to see if perhaps Eleanor was coming through. He rummaged through his jeans pockets and cursed. He did not have the car keys. Eleanor did.

Brilliant.

He contemplated leaving Zayn and looking for Eleanor but then Zayn seemed to be falling asleep, everything that happened to him taking over.

“Zayn?”

“Hmm?”

That was all Niall needed to hear. He kissed the crown of his head and turned his attention back, looking out for anyone in a tribal patterned dress running towards his Range so they would quickly enter the car and go off.

“Zayn are you okay?” he hissed, alarmed, when Zayn pushed himself of the Range and laid down on his back on the pavement.

“Better.”

He looked visibly relaxed, lying on the pavement, his broken hand on his stomach. Satisfied no one was coming to look for either of them, he crawled to where Zayn was, slowly and gingerly lifted his upper body and laid his head on his lap.

“What happens now?”

Niall startled at Zayn’s question. He honestly thought he was asleep. He trailed his fingers along his stubble, his eyes taking in the bruises on his face and the fragility of it all. Randomly, the concept of why bruises change color came running back to him and the memories of Johannah at the Doncaster Hospice.

“Do you know why bruises change color?” he asked, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu and setback.

“No.”

“When blood vessels burst, hemoglobin leaks into the layers of your skin to clean it all up.  Your body sends clusters of white blood cells to break down the iron, and other proteins, and as that happens… the color changes from red to blue.”

Silence settled between them, Zayn breathing in and out through his mouth and looking peaceful by the minute, Niall thinking he had gone back into his slumber.

“How did you know that?”

“Something I read in Bio,” he lied. “We’re going to go to the hospital, get you checked out, go home, have tea and catch Gogglebox before it ends.”

It was not the answer Zayn was asking, he knew that, but he had no answer for Zayn so he opted for what he said. Zayn opened his eyes to be met with a face of Niall looking down at him, his baby blue eyes giving off a wave of calm. Niall leaned down and pressed their lips together, lingering for a moment that it took Zayn to cup the hand on his jawline.

“That sounds lovely, Niall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grim chapter, shyeeeeeeeeeeet! i honestly hope that if you are gay, your coming out will be great/went well *smiles* & not like zayn's.
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly appreciated ☺☺ both good and bad to help my story be better. take care, sons ! ♦  
> P.S. IT'S EMINEM'S BIRTHDAY!!! ♪♪♪


	26. For Your Eyes Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziall are OFFICIAL <3

> **I’m begging please don’t play no more sad songs  
>     ~ Little Mix **

_Shout Out To My Ex_ was a sensation when it came out three days ago. It was dropped some time before midnight, London time, and by morning hours, it was as if the entire world knew about the song, its meaning, and the ‘Oh snap!’ of it all.

Zayn had shrugged when he heard the song as Eleanor was listening to it in the shower and said that everyone was entitled to freedom of expression. Niall thought, _Bullshit_ , but nevertheless let it go as too much had already been happening.

Zayn was done a thorough check-up with the doctor, finding that he had a broken rib, his left hand was severely damaged, and developed other complications he had to spend the night and the following day in hospital. Niall had not moved from the side of his hospital bed, not when Doniya visited, or Jawaad, or even Liam who had been called by Eleanor.

Niall told him the diluted version of the story, feeling if he told Liam everything Zayn would not appreciate it, some things were meant to be kept private after all.

“Is he going to be okay?” Liam had asked, worried as he looked over at a sleeping Zayn.

That was the million dollar question, Niall found. He knew Zayn would be okay, in the future, a good 10, 15 years, right? As of right now, Zayn was not okay, Niall had told Liam, who looked at him understandingly, and Liam, in an assuring tone, told him it was what it was and that Zayn was tougher than he looked.

Zayn was released and was given a cocktail of pills to take that he was out even before his head hit the pillow and slept through to the following day. In the meantime, Niall had a call with Steve telling him that his music video was scheduled to be released the following week and (it was meant to be a secret) his Management team would be throwing Niall a _Human_ party in a secret location in London. Looks as if Steve kept one part of the party a secret, Niall laughed.

His career was getting taking a toll on him as there were several deadlines fast approaching. The Directors he had been meeting with over one, two months ago were asking for the songs that he had composed for their films. He had thankfully been keeping busy so when Damien Chazelle of _La La Land_ called, he told them his song was done and he would send it by the end of the day, including _Collateral Beauty, Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates,_ and _Don’t Breathe_ which Niall found enjoyable to learn the plot when Fede Alvarez told him about the thriller film.

Niall spent his time, in the evenings when they would all be at home, trying to whip a meal for all three of them, failing miserably when he undercooked the chicken, cooked the avocado instead of spinach (“They looked alike!” he argued when Eleanor poked around her plate) and burnt the rice.  But that was not the problem. It was at night when they were tucking in that Niall would get worried.

The first night Zayn cried well into the morning, the second night, too, and the third, and fourth. The fifth night Niall was woken up by sniffles and the light from under his bathroom door. It was the sixth night that Niall confronted him.

“Zayn, we’ve got to talk—”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“But we need.” Niall watched him walk away from him to his closet, pulling out clothes from his second drawer. “What are you looking for?” Zayn held a green T-shirt he remembered wearing yesterday and struggled to put it on, what with one function right hand. “Zayn, you can’t keep avoiding—”

“Tomorrow, promise.”

He helplessly watched him pop several pills and fell asleep, his back to Niall. Tomorrow never came but Zayn did not cry in the night nor did he wake up until mid-afternoon when Eleanor was uploading her weekly vlog on Youtube.

“Hey, can I ask you for something?”

“Sure,” she said turning around on her chair to Zayn standing awkwardly by the door. He nodded once. He shut the door behind him and took the few steps to her bed and sat on the edge of it. “Is everything alright? Niall’s really—”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay…”

“I’m designing a shoe collection for Giuseppe and it’s coming out next month and I want one to be for Niall.”

Eleanor grinned, clapping her hands in excitement. “Really?”

He smiled lightly. “I don’t know what exactly he likes to wear. I mean, he wears snickers all the time, boots if it’s a red carpet or formal event, and crocs in the house.”

“Which is a hate crime,” pitched in Eleanor.

“So I was hoping if you’d sort of find out his favourite type of shoe so I can design it for him.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.”

“Can you not tell him?” he requested, drawing idle patterns on his faux cast. “I want it to be a surprise for him.”

“Of course, silly. Speaking of Nini, he’s really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“ _No_ , I mean really worried. You’re barely speaking about what happened in Bradford and he knows you’re not okay even if you’ve managed to fool everyone.” Eleanor paused scratching the side of her arm. “I don’t know if I should tell you this.”

“What is it?”

Eleanor heaved out a breath. “He’ll kill me knowing I told you this but he’s afraid you’ll disappear again.”

Zayn blinked. “Disappear?”

“Like when you did with Ramadhan.”

“I’m not going to…”

“You did when everything got bad,” she said, her hand making circular motions, “and he thinks you’ll bail because of what happened in Bradford.”

“He worries.”

“That’s Nini for you… but you’re not helping matters either. I know what happened was horrible and should never happen to anyone but Niall can help you. He’s not going anywhere, if that’s what you think.”

“That’s not it,” he admitted, feeling ashamed at pushing Niall away. “I’m afraid he’s going to like me less now… because of everything.” He looked to Eleanor who chose to remain silent and Zayn inhaled. “I’m an outcast with my family, he saw me shamelessly naked on a bed, he’s seen me cry like a fucking 3-year old baby this entire week, and now with Perrie releasing _Shout Out To My Ex_ he knows part of—”

“Nini could fucking care less, Zayn.” Eleanor knocked the side of his head with her knuckles as if it were a door. “He doesn’t care about all those because that’s not who he is. Yes, he knows all this, and no, he doesn’t like you any less because of those things.”

“You sure?”

“Sure.”

The following week, Zayn was scheduled for a check-up with the doctor concerning his fractured hand. Zayn was meant to go for his minor surgery which he had been postponing, stating he was fine, despite having struggles with doing day-to-day things such as showering, making tea, and placing his left hand on a flat surface and belatedly flinching away at the pressure he was putting on his fractured hand.

“Mr Malik, so glad you could come yet again,” said Dr Line walking hurriedly into her office. She removed her white coat and hang it on the coat hanger beside her leather, brown chair.

“I was held up with work,” explained Zayn. Dr Line looked at Zayn, a small smile playing on her lips, before she picked up Zayn’s file and perused through it.

“Mr Malik, I received your x-rays and physical examinations and you were directed to me as the head of the Hand Surgery team of this hospital.”

Zayn blinked at her and it looked as if he would not be talking so Niall spoke up on behalf of him. “What did you find?”

“Just what we feared: the bones in his hand need immediate surgery. Several bones were fractured, deformity, the site of the fracture was centred around the fingers of your left hand but we cannot just focus there as with broken bones, we look at other injuries that occurred.”

“Such as?”

“Burst blood vessels, nerves and others.” She turned to look at Zayn. “I’m surprised you’ve even lasted a week without coming  back to the hospital.” When Zayn did not reply, she inhaled as she wore her glasses that were hanging on a white string around her neck. “So first things first,” she was addressing Niall, “Mr Malik will need to undergo surgery due to the demanding job that he holds where he needs to use his hand. We shall implant wires and plates in the fractured left hand to hold his pieces of bone in place which shall be performed under a general anaesthetic.”

“For how long will the surgery last?”

“Not that long, two hours at most.”

“Okay.”

“As this was a closed fracture, Mr Malik, I will leave the internal splints for about two weeks before we remove them but for the next eight weeks Mr Malik will be in a cast to ensure his hand is healing properly. Plus, he needs to periodically come in for examinations to ensure his joints don’t tighten which can happen because of long periods of immobilization.”

“Will he be wearing the cast for the eight weeks?” inquired Niall.

“Yes but after three weeks, we will begin with his rehabilitation sessions, carried out by our expert hand therapist, on recovery exercises to ensure his hand is as good as it was before the fighting accident.”

Niall continued nodding. He had a feeling that Zayn was not completely honest with Dr Line as to what happened to his broken left hand.

“Will he have these internal splints even after the surgery?” asked Niall concerned.

“Unfortunately, Mr Malik suffered permanent fractures on his middle and ring finger therefore we shall be using titanium splints so as to replace the missing bones but for the rest of his fingers and thumb, those shall easily be fixed.”

“Fuck,” Zayn cursed, alerting Niall and Dr Line to his attention. “Can’t you, I don’t know, take bones from elsewhere and insert them in my fingers?”

“No, Mr Malik, we cannot. The damage is irreversible.”

Niall reached across and took his right hand with his, holding it tightly. They locked eyes, Dr Line darting her eyes between them, and Zayn ducked his hand, defeated.

“So after the surgery.…”

“Mr Malik shall be wearing a cast from his fingers to a little past his wrist. He will have to,” she stressed this, now looking to Zayn, “to come in for examinations so that we can know how he is progressing.”

“Sure. Um… can we see the x-rays if possible?”

“Of course.” She handed them both the x-rays from Zayn’s file. Niall took them both seeing as Zayn kept his hands to himself.

“We will need to do the surgery right away.”

“Today?”

Dr Line’s eyebrows rose to her blond hairline in surprise. She blinked several times in surprise at Zayn, seeing as she was basically discussing everything with Niall.

“We can schedule for this evening? If that’s alright?”

“That’s fine.”

And that was it. As the Hand Surgery team was preparing for this evening, Niall suggested they go out for lunch as they waited for their 6 o’clock appointment.  They were at Niall’s favourite soup restaurant where Mel was glad to see them again.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Ni,” she told him, after greetings, and the two followed her to Niall’s outdoor booth.

“How’s did your Ma’s hip replacement go?”

“It was great. She cannot thank you enough,” she said and indicated them to their booth. “She would like to give her thanks by inviting you to her barbecue this weekend, if you’re free?”

“How can I say no to a free barbecue?” laughed Niall. Mel laughed along and turned to Zayn to welcome him back to the restaurant, hoping this time it would be a better experience than the last.

“No mango milkshake this time,” said Zayn, looking through the drinks menu after Mel left them alone to look through what to order for a late lunch.

“You’re missing out.”

“There’s been strawberry milkshake and you didn’t care to mention this?”

Niall made a gagging noise. “Strawberry is the worst thing in the entire world. I don’t know how people stomach it.”

“I can see why Maura made you have Harry on catering duties for her wedding,” teased Zayn.

Niall threw a bread stick his way in response. They made their orders when Mel came back and minutes later, Zayn was sinking back into their booth and enjoying the rare sun warming his cheeks.

Niall set his glass down and called his name. Zayn breathed out through his mouth and his chest sunk in with it.

“You can’t keep sighing every time I mention—”

“Listen, Niall,” he said, sitting up in his chair and already missing the warmth on his face. “I like you but I’m not ready to talk about what happened in Bradford.”

“You don’t need to explain per se just… what you’re feeling, going through… I’m running crazy trying to understand—”

“I’m not going to disappear.”

Niall started at that. He certainly was not worrying over Zayn disappearing (okay, a little)(fine, a lot) but now that he mentioned it, he was now worrying over it.

“Were you going to?” he asked, almost afraid to. His fears were confirmed when Zayn remained quiet and shifted his eyes somewhere behind Niall’s shoulder. “Don’t leave. Please.”

“I’m not,” he said and the weight on Niall’s shoulders fell off. “What went down with my family in Bradford was earth-shattering,” he paused, gulped, then continued, “and this surgery is a painful reminder of that. I thought simply getting a surgery, my bones fixed and all would be the end but for the rest of my life I’ll have metal inside of me reminding me of…”

Niall looked down at his glass of mango milkshake, silence befalling between them. “You had a chance,” he said, after a moment, “to say that it was all a joke. MTV, that you’re gay, all of it. You had a chance and you didn’t take it.”

“Because I want you, Niall,” he said, looking at him as if he were out of his mind. “I like you and you make me the calmest and happiest I’ve ever been, I’m not going to give it up. Besides,” he added before Niall could get a word in, “it’s not you that’s the problem, it’s me. I can’t believe I just said that.” They both laughed, Niall happy to hear laughter from Zayn’s lips. “If I was dating another guy it would’ve been the same thing. But they’re my family, Niall.”

Looking at Zayn pitifully turning his milkshake glass around in his hand, he was reminded that we all grew up differently. We never knew what people went through when they said their goodbyes and went home. We never knew. And Niall was starting to think Zayn did not know either.

His family, that took care of him and loved him his entire life, suddenly turned a 180 and hated him for who he was. It was the reason Zayn thought he was wrong, simply because there was a shift in their otherwise perfect setting.

“Why were you adamant with Dr Line when she said that you would’ve have titanium in your fingers?” he asked. Zayn looked relieved with the subject change but still on edge. He took a long drink of his strawberry milkshake.

“You know how in airports, when you go through the security checks, taking off belts, laptops, whatever, and then at the other side, you put back your belt, your laptop and walk freely?” he asked and Niall nodded. “Not everyone has that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I get random security checks,” he laughed sounding bitter, “though I think they say that just to make me relax or summat. I’m not even surprised anymore when I’m pulled aside and told I’ve been randomly selected for a security check.”

“Why would they do that? They shouldn’t!”

“Other times they say that my surname has been flagged on their system so they take me to some room in the airport where they question everything about my background.”

“Just because of your fucking last name?” he questioned, shocked.

Zayn weakly shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not the first time. And now I’ll be having metal inside me so guess who’s always going to be forever stuck in an airport for hours on end?”

Niall held up his hands, muttering, “Hold up!” several times. Zayn was saying too much and he need him to explain it all slowly. “What do you mean, ‘Not the first time’? Have they been doing this for long?”

“Since One Direction started.”

Niall gawked. “That was years ago! Plus you were in a band. Pretty sure they could’ve gotten a word to the airport… people, officials, _whoever_ , and it would’ve been fine.”

Zayn was shaking his head even before Niall had finished his sentence. “It didn’t matter. My name would always be flagged.” Zayn run his fingers through his hair (Niall happy it had been growing well enough to card fingers through) and threw his head back. “I can’t believe this was a long time ago.”

Niall leaned forward on the table. “What used to happen?”

“We would travel the five of us, right?” he began and Niall nodded. “Well, the first two times I was stopped for ‘security reasons,’” he made quote signs with his right hand, “Sonny, the Managing Director, agreed with Paul that maybe I should be traveling by myself… to make it easier and all that.”

“… I never… noticed…”

Niall sunk into his chair. It explained a lot now that he thought about it. The reasons why Zayn was never on their flight, constantly blaming sleeping in as an excuse, the reason even if they all wound up together at the airport, he would randomly disappear, later saying he was looking for a present for his girlfriend, mom, sisters. He always had an excuse until the four of them stopped questioning him and it became the norm – the four of them would travel together and Zayn would either be there first and come later.

“What was it like… the first time?”

“I was with Louis at the time and one of the security personnel of Heathrow called me aside, saying my name was flagged and they had a few questions for me. I told Louis to go and tell Paul but he shook his head and said we’d go together. When I think about it, I don’t think they took long because Louis was waiting for me.”

Niall frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It was the shortest questioning ever.”

“You’re not implying that because Louis was there it’s because you took a short time?” he questioned him, a little accusing. “You don’t think because Louis isn’t Muslim, is white – which you are, by the way – that your questioning was short?”

Zayn chewed on his bottom lip in reply. Niall searched his face and with the stretching he got his answer. “Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath.

“It was different when we landed in LAX. This time Louis was not there but he had told Paul about what happened,” he said, setting his  half-empty glass of milkshake down. “I was 17, jet-lagged off the plane, confused, I just wanted to sleep but for nearly three hours they questioned me. You’d think that after all the traveling we did, after the third album, that it’d be less of these ‘random security checks,’” he made air quotes with his right hand – “but it didn’t change. Nothing changed.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Even bloody Simon? They could’ve talked to someone. Anyone.”

“I did but nothing changed.” He propped his elbow on the edge of his chair, leaning his head on his hand. “It got to the point where if I wasn’t stopped at the airport, it was a surprise. As long as I bear my name, I’ll always be stopped.”

“It’s because of terrorism and people not understanding Islam that they think terrorists are preaching what is in the Quran is _bone fide_ that has caused you to be in this mess. It’s not your fault. But hey,” he paused as a thought occurred to him, “how come it’s an issue now? You’re not under Simon anymore!”

“After everything I’ve pulled, with the lawyer and the Giuseppe project, you think they’re going to help me with airport security?” he scoffed acidly. “You’re out of your mind, Niall.”

“But you’re Zayn Malik!”

“As long as I have the name Malik and say I am a Muslim,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “I’ll be stopped.”

Niall was not a fan of PDA, not entirely, but it seemed it all changed when he and Zayn were an item. He found that he did not mind PDA, he enjoyed it in fact, enjoyed being shown that he was cared for. He stood up from his chair, Zayn’s head lifting from his hand asking, “Are we leaving? I’d like my chicken soup—What are you doing?”

Niall bent his legs at the knee as he sat on top of Zayn on his chair and grazed his thumb down from his eyelashes to his nose ring. Zayn, his back pressed to the chair, was in shock to do anything else, not when Niall was unbuttoning the top buttons of his gingham shirt and his palm sliding along his chest.

“We’re in public,” he breathed.

Niall’s thumbed his bottom lip as he said, “You’re the bravest and most sincere person I’ve ever met. The world tries to change you, beats you down for it, and you stand back up and tell it who you are.” He brushed his lips on Zayn’s and pulled back, Zayn automatically chasing his lips. “I love that about you; you remain you in this changing world.”

Niall locked their lips as both his hands flattened on Zayn’s shoulders. He kissed him, passionately, not mindful of the other people in the restaurant looking their hair, damned be them, he was here for Zayn. It was not a rushed kiss, no, Niall wanted to kiss him deeply, to make him feel safe, and as Zayn’s tongue ran on his bottom lip, he opened up for him.

Their tongues clashed and Niall could not help the moan on the back of his throat. Zayn was absolutely delicious, all of him, tasting him on his tongue, his warm mouth on his, his hands leaving fire trails on the small of his back, he was definitely in too deep.

A loud, female clearing of the throat rang through their ears and they separated. It was Mel setting down their bowls of soup and new set of milkshakes.

“Time to eat kids,” she smirked and winked at them.

“Thanks, Mel,” beamed Niall. Mel laughed and shook her head.

“Stop putting a steamy show for our customers. Some would like to eat in peace.”

“Judging from the type of customers this place gets, Mel, all of them would benefit from this show.” He wriggled his eyebrows and Zayn groaned from beneath him, waves of embarrassment rippling through him.

“Niall!” she chided, slapping his arm. 

“Aw c’mon, most of the customers here are past the age of retirement and nearly all of them are living in a Home.”

“You’re unbelievable!” she threw her hands in the air, and a walked off.

Niall turned back to gaze down at Zayn and brushed his knuckles along his chiselled cheekbones. “Like I said before, I’ll be here for you. Always.”

“Alright, Snape.”

Niall rolled his eyes laughing. He got off Zayn and sat back in his seat. Before he dug into his soup, he said, “If I’m Snape that makes you Lily.”

Sure the shift in their conversation was odd, but this is was he loved about them, about Zayn.

Zayn paused just as he was about to dip his spoon into his soup. “Excuse me? Why do I get to be the weird one? I want to be Snape.”

“Snape was in Slytherin so I get to be Snape.”

“Yeah but… I got killed, didn’t I?” questioned Zayn.

“By Voldemort.”

“Wait a second,” said Zayn, his chin resting on his fist. His soup was hot so he let it cool. “You were killed by Voldemort, too. We both died in the same hands.”

“But yours was tragic,” chuckled Niall.

“And I left you for another man who bore the most famous boy in not only Hogwarts but the Wizarding world.”

Niall stumbled over his words. He took a long sip of his milkshake, until the last drop. He set the glass down and narrowed his eyes at Zayn.

“You’re in Ravenclaw.”

Zayn chuckled. “That’s your come back? Honestly?”

“Ravenclaw.”

“And you always loved me,” Zayn smiled brightly at him, enjoying seeing Niall not coming up with a good clapback.

“I should’ve never introduced you to Harry Potter. Look what it’s done, turned you against me! What next, your Patronus will be a rat? You’ll get the Dark Mark? You were secretly always in love with James Potter and not me, Severus Snape?”

“If James Potter wore other clothes apart from black, then yes.”

“You wear black,” Niall huffed and pointed his spoon up and down at Zayn.

“You’re just annoyed that I got to have an awesome son and you never did because you lost the love of your life.”

“Fuck off. You’re in Ravenclaw.”

“Is that your only argument, Niall?”

“The only argument I need.”  


**~                    ~                  *                  ~                ~**  


It was a few minutes before Zayn was wheeled into the surgery room. He was donned in the fading, grey hospital gown and his hair pulled back and covered in a white net. Currently, the cast around his left hand was off and his bare hand was resting on top of his chest.

“Does it hurt?”

Zayn shook his head. He tried to move his fingers, any of them, but only managed with his pinkie. “A little,” he admitted after.

“How do you manage to look dazzling even in a gown and fish net? Some of us would look like shit.” Zayn chuckled, his tongue sticking to the back of his teeth. “Are you nervous?”

He wanted to say no, he was not, but seeing Niall gazing down at him earnestly, he told him the truth, “Little.”

“You’re going to be great,” he told him and before he knew it, Zayn was whisked before large white doors for the next three hours and he sat back in the reception area. He made himself quite comfortable, as far as hospital food and drinks go, and pocketed out his phone.

He had several missed calls and many more text messages from Elena. To this day, Niall never did know what her actual job was, just that she did something something managing something of social media something something. Oh, and damage control... of something something. Today she wanted him to pick a medium for his outing. See, ever since the VMA kiss between himself and Zayn, the entire world was shook.

Even weeks later, people were still talking about it, GIFs were made, videos created, nobody remembered Beyoncé slaying the Awards, all anyone remembered was the Ziall kiss, not to mention the LGBTQ+ community were all hoorah  about Niall’s (and Zayn’s) coming out.

As a result, Elena told him of the various magazines asking for interviews, and if he did not want any, then photo spreads in their August issue, radio interviews doubled within the last fortnight, not forgetting TV interviews and personality show hosts such as Jimmy Fallon, James Corden, Ellen DeGeneres were asking for interviews which Niall found odd especially since neither Jimmy nor James have ever contacted his Management for an interview.

In terms of publicity regarding his music, his songs rose through the charts, moreso _Human._ To the LGBTQ+ community, they used the lyric _'Cause I'm only human after all, you're only human after all_ as part of their slogan for this year’s Pride walk in various cities in the world such as London, Los Angeles, New York, Sydney, and others. Niall was floored, really, to think that a whole community would use his song as a slogan… he honestly felt a little like Lady Gaga.

With their informal relationship, Niall did not have to e-mail Elena stating he was not yet ready to “come out” in the interviews and photoshoots just yet. In under 20 seconds she replied that he should think soon and would contact him again this weekend. And oh, to check Twitter.

Curiously, he logged into his Twitter App and did not find what he should have been looking for. He followed a few fans, tweeted a _Happy Birthday pal ! Let’s go for pints soon !_ to Macklemore, and asked Kalani Pe’a and Andy González to free their schedules sometime in the end of July for his music video party.  And then he saw what Elena was hinting at.

 _Shout Out To My Ex_ was rising through the charts, it seemed, in his opinion simply because the lyrics hinting at Zerrie’s relationship. Nobody cared, he wanted to argue. Louis was of a different opinion:

**Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
** _@LittleMix What a banger ! Loving the new single SOTME !_

He rolled his eyes as he scrolled down the _thank you, love_ Tweet reply from the official Little Mix Twitter account. Luckily, it seemed Gigi was on his same wavelength when he saw her tweet:

**GiGi @itsgigihadid  
** _He’s not a chick, sweetie !_

A smile was growing on his lips as he read and re-read her Tweet. All this time who knew Gigi was… nice? She was a nice girl, when she was not dating Zayn that is. He saw the hate that Mixers were sending Gigi and, not even ashamed, he would have been in the same shoe as them but not today.

Shockingly, he retweeted her Tweet and went ahead to add his own two cents to the song:

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_Offensive really ! Is it the way I wear my hair that makes it girly?_

A couple of minutes later, and Niall downing his first Coke can in the hospital cafeteria, she tweeted:

**GiGi @itsgigihadid  
** _@NiallJHoran Maybe if you wore a longer wig? Blond?_

**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@itsgigihadid_ _YUCK ! Not blond, maybe green ?_

**GiGi @itsgigihadid  
** _@NiallJHoran Maybe pink? They did say you are “some chick.”_

**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@itsgigihadid_ _Guess who’s going wig shopping today !!_

**GiGi @itsgigihadid  
** _@NiallJHoran and you’ll be “so brand new, baby” ;)_

Niall laughed aloud at the double meaning, using Little Mix lyrics against them. To say Niall and Gigi fans were confused at the sudden friendliness between the two was hitting the nail on the head. They were mind boggled, after each tweet, it was not an passive-aggressive insult to the other but a banter against Little Mix. So, for the first time, Niall and Gigi fans formed a truce because their idols were peaceful with each other. How long it would last? No one knew. They had bigger problems, anyway.

  **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
**_Some people don’t understand the true meaning of songs even when the message is clear!_

**GiGi @itsgigihadid  
** _Maybe some people should get with the changing times._

**Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@itsgigihadid_ _Maybe she’s uncomfortable that he left her for a MALE_

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
**_@NiallJHoran_ _@itsgigihadid_ _Not everything runs around YOUR life. Some people live their lives and have moved on._

 **Little Mix** **Retweeted** _  
_**Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
**_@NiallJHoran_ _@itsgigihadid_ _Not everything runs around YOUR life. Some people live their lives and have moved on._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@Louis_Stylinson_ _Sure, by singing about UR ex who U broke up with YEARS ago ? Why sing now ? Why are U still obsessed ?_

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
**_@NiallJHoran_ _After all the hurt that her ex put her through, she has the right to get closure through music._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@Louis_Stylinson_ _Because her ex wasn’t hurt either ? He was just as heartbroken as she was of the break up & he acted maturely over the whole thing._

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
**_@NiallJHoran_ _Taylor Swift does it, Ed Sheeran does it, why is Perrie getting backlash for it ?_

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_@Louis_Stylinson_ _Because he  doesn’t want to compromise his dignity, he is better than that ! His mother taught him better._

 **Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Stylinson  
**_@NiallJHoran_ _Clearly your mother didn’t!_

WHAT

THE

FUCK?

He put a pause on it, his blood boiling over Louis’ tweet. Heclocked on his Notifications icon, checking if anyone mentioned him (praying Troye Sivan had not yet gotten bored of him) and he saw one from Liam tweeting: _BUBBLEGUM!_ He rolled his eyes at Liam’s ancient antics. Bubblegum was their code way of telling each other to abort – whatever it was they were doing. If Harry had been excessively liking photos of kittens, one of them would tweet BUBBLEGUM. If one of them, mostly Niall, was swearing too much on Twitter or any other social media platform, one of 4/5 would tweet BUBBLEGUM. It was also a code against Management when one would Tweet the code word and immediately they would chat off social media about what Management was doing. Mostly, it was Louis’ way of rebelling against Management but it worked for all of them.

Above all, they made a rule that each was to obey the code within 12 hours no excuses.

With the code being called, Niall headed for his DMs where he saw a message from Liam telling them (the others being Harry and Louis) to head to their WhatsApp group.

 **Nialler:** We don’t have a Whatsapp group Payno. Keep with the times.

 **LIAM:** I Created One With 4/4.

He headed to his WhatsApp  App where, indeed, Liam, as of eight minutes ago, created a group involving the four of the remaining members of One Direction.

 **PAYNO:** This Has Got To Stop, Niall & Louis.

 **PAYNO:** Little Mix And Us Are Friends And We Need To ACT Friends If Even Some Of Us Have Frosty Relations With Them.

 **PAYNO:** Whatever The Motivation For Their New Single Was, No Need To Pick At The Song Because They Have The Right To Write It As They Like. If Any Of You Have A Problem With How The Song Has Been Written, Then Write You OWN Break Up Song.

 **NIALL:** I was talking with Gigi when LOUIS randomly butted in &  no one asked him to

 **PAYNO:** How Would You Feel If Zayn Came Online And Found You Bickering With Perrie Over His Past Relationship?

 **NIALL:** He’d love it because Gigi & I R now neutral

 **PAYNO:** Of You Having A Row With Perrie Not THAT!!

 **Unknown Number:** Niall’s bitter he is getting Perrie’s sloppy seconds. You’ll wind up in the same exact place as she.

 **NIALL:** FUCK OFF! Perrie was a leech & that’s a fact. All she ever did was use Zayn to get her tiny band recognition & look it ! Using Zayn, yet again, to get publicity.

 **PAYNO:** You Two Need To Stop Fighting PUBLICLY! You’re Both Still Part Of 1D And We Have A REPUTATION To Uphold As A Band.

 **Unknown Number:** Do you seriously think Simon is going to sign as again?

 **NIALL:** Of course ! 1D is on a hiatus

 **Unknown Number:** You’re basically out of the band what with you dating traitors and fucktards.

 **NIALL:** It doesn’t matter who I’m dating, ASSHOLE, I’m still in the band & we will be getting back together in 2018 !!!

 **Unknown Number:** I can’t believe you’d stoop so low. You hated on Gigi, sneaked behind her, and stole her lowlife boyfriend? You’re THE traitor here.

 **NIALL:** U know nothing about Zayn & I, Louis. FUCK. OFF

 **Unknown Number:** You messed with the wrong Tomlinson and you’re going to pay for what you’ve done to all of us.

 **NIALL:** Who’s us ?

 **PAYNO:** What Are You Talking About Tommo?

 **Unknown Number:** You think changing Zayn’s lawyers did anything? You think having your brother check his contract with RCA made any changes? You’re mistaken, Niall.

 **NIALL:** U KNEW ? U FUCKING KNEW EVERYTHING ?!

 **Unknown Number:** Of course I know. I’m not an idiot like you.

 **PAYNO:** Louis, You Can’t Do That. You Weren’t Part Of The Team Handling Zayn’s Exit.

 **NIALL:** Part of the team ? What team?????

 **Unknown Number:** Didn’t your boyfriend tell you?

 **NIALL:** NO. What the hell are U on about ??

 **PAYNO:** This Isn’t A Good Time To Say It, Tommo. Let It Go.

 **NIALL:** U KNOW? U knew this entire time about all of it yet said nothing ?!?

 **PAYNO:** I Found Out Later When We Were Signing Our Hiatus Contract.

 **NIALL:** What is Louis talking about then ? I wasn’t told anything when I signed MY hiatus contract !!!!!!

 **Unknown Number:** Simon assigned me as part of Zayn’s exit team and we drafted the contract that he signed. He was eager to leave us that he did not read the entire contract past Article 150 so he did not see the bits and pieces about undertaking projects not concerning his music.

 **NIALL:** Payno, tell me exactly what Louis did ? I feel like he is missing out on something.

 **PAYNO:** Idk Why You Think I Know More Than You Do/Think. All I Know Is That Zayn Can Get Into Trouble If He And The Police Clash.

 **NIALL:** WHAT !!

 **NIALL:** What do you mean ?

 **PAYNO:** If He Is Caught Drunk Driving, Fighting, Just Anything Against The Law Then He Pays A Hefty Sum, Not Just To The Police But To Sony. Like A LOT Of Money, PABLO ESCOBAR Kind.

 **NIALL:** Why didn’t U say anything before? Like when we were trashing his house ??

 **PAYNO:** Secrecy Is Part Of The Hiatus Contract. I Couldn’t Say Anything But Now That I Think About It, It’s All Bullshit So I Can Tell It To You Now.

 **Unknown Number:** Zayn will never EVER buy a house or apartment anywhere in the UK, Australia or USA.

 **NIALL:** He bought his penthouse in LA asshole!

 **PAYNO:** He’s Renting It. And The Amount He Pays For Rent It, He Had To Pay It 3x To Each Of Us.

 **NIALL:** EXCUSE ME ? U’VE BEEN DRAINING HIS BANK ACCOUNT FOR UR SELFISH GAINS ?

 **PAYNO:** I’m Sorry Nialler. But I Was Angry With Him For Leaving So I Thought It Was Only Fair. It’s Okay Now, I Explained Everything To Zayn And He Forgave Me, Though Much Later. Same With Harry.

 **NIALL:** URE A RIGHT IDIOT PAYNO!!!

 **PAYNO:** I Know, And I’M SORRY! But With Zayn’s New Lawyer And Contract, He Can Buy Houses Anywhere Worldwide Apart From The UK And As An Apology, Harry And I Bought Him The Penthouse In LA And The One He Was Renting In NYC Near Gigi’s Place.

 **PAYNO:** He Owns Both Now.

 **Unknown Number:** Harry did nothing of the sort!! He wouldn’t dare.

 **PAYNO:** He Did Tommo. Ask Him.

 **NIALL:** What the fuck else are you doing to Zayn ? STEALING MORE OF HIS MONEY?

 **NIALL:** Making sure his sales are not as high as they should be?

 **NIALL:** Having interviews and shit randomly cancel on him ????

 **PAYNO:** I Don’t Know The Rest. I Didn’t Have Time To Read The Hiatus Contract Before Simon Was Telling Me To Sign It Quickly.

 **NIALL:** Louis I SWEAR IF U HURT A STRAND OF ZAYN’S HAIR, I’M COMING AFTER U.

 **Unknown Number:** You won’t see me coming, Niall.

 **NIALL:** NEITHER WILL U, ASSHOLE.

 **PAYNO:** Can We Stop With The Threats? What Happened To Us Being The Greatest Team In The World? Thought We Were Going Strong Boys??

 **Unknown Number:** We will never be the greatest team, Liam. And forget about a reunion of 1D. This hiatus IS permanent.

 **PAYNO:** It’s 3/4 Who Want A Reunion, Tommo. You Can’t Just Decide That There Won’t Be A Reunion.

 **Unknown Number:** Watch me Payno. And Niall, watch your back.

**_Unknown number has left the group._ **

Niall ignored Liam’s several messages thereafter, opting to call his brother, Greg. He asked him, more like demanded, to pull out the hiatus contract he had signed before the hiatus of the band and if he could, Louis’ hiatus contract, too. He was getting the feeling they all signed different contracts. How was it that Louis seemed to have more “power” in his contract than the three of them?

Ignoring Greg’s _What you want the contracts for?_ , he also asked (read: demanded) he look into the court case concerning Briana Jungwirth v Louis Tomlinson concerning custody of Freddie Tomlinson.

If Louis was going to play dirty, then so was he.  


**~                  ~             *                ~            ~**  
  


Niall gurgled and spit out the mouthwash into the sink. He pulled his lips apart and stared at his teeth. They looked fine and he turned the lights off as he headed to his bedroom.

“Goodnight,” he called, poking his head in Eleanor’s room. “Have dreams about me only, like always.”

“If you want me to die in my sleep,” she called back then sent air kisses his way.

He yelped as he entered his room finding Zayn sat upright on his bed with his back against the wall. “You look like a monk.” Zayn was looking at him intently as he made his way to his bed. “What is it? Why are you staring?”

“I saw the tweets.”

Niall sighed. “I’d say I’m sorry but we’re both lying.”

“So don’t.”

Niall was sitting with his legs stretched to the edge of the bed and his back against the wall as well. The tension was thick between them, and Niall could feel a thick, brick wall between them and he began feeling queasy.

“Say something.”

It was quiet but he heard the sharp inhale from Zayn. Niall’s eyes went down to where Zayn’s light blue cast was laying on his thigh. His fingernails were poking through the ends of the cast, looking like tiny fish fingers. Niall held in the laugh he had, as it was not a good idea to be laughing right now.

“If we’re not going to talk,” he spoke when the silence stretched for it to get too awkward and uncomfortable, “we might as well—”

“I cheated on Perrie four times.”

Well, okay. This was not what he was expecting. His brain was working the cogs, words flying around his head but his mouth could not form words.

“She wasn’t wrong in the song.”

“Four times?” he gawked, finding his voice. “Wasn’t the first time hard enough?”

“Just Perrie.”

“When?” he asked instead.

“The first time we weren’t exactly official so I don’t count it as such. The second time was during the Olympics back in 2012. We were both busy and we were sort of drifting from each other. I had tried to get her alone but she was always busy, on the phone, on tour. I would use my vacation time to go see her but she had some excuse the whole time. So I cheated…”

Niall looked over and saw Zayn looking toward the ceiling with the back of his head pressed to the wall. “The third?” he breathed.

“By now I knew Perrie didn’t love me, well I thought she didn’t love me so I fucked around. It was with Courtney whom I met at some strip club in London.”

“She’s the one who took pictures?” he asked. Niall, generally tending to stay off his bandmates relationships (and the scandals that came along with them, ahem, Harry), had seen pictures on the internet of Zayn sleeping on his bed, shirtless. He did not believe it when he saw it but… they do say pictures are worth a thousand words. He never questioned Zayn about it, instead reading about the drama online like the rest of the fandom did.

“Yeah. It was the first time I ever saw Perrie pissed.”

“What did you expect? You’ve been cheating on her so many times!”

“It’s the only time I saw she cared,” he told him and Niall was taken aback.

“What do you mean, she cared? Perrie always cared about you.”

Zayn scoffed, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “She could care less about me. She was blowing me off when I called her, I even asked her bandmates if I had done something wrong but they said she was busy with touring and all, I would even surprise her in her hotel room but I spent most of my time alone which defeated the purpose. I tried Skype dates, Skype sex, sent her nude photos, bought her gifts, did everything but she wouldn’t budge so I said fuck it and went to the strip club.

In the back of Niall’s mind, he was wondering, with no real interest of course, what nude photos Zayn had sent? Were they saucy? Shirtless? Semi-nude? He bit his lip. _Fully nude??_

“We both saw the ending, we both knew this was it but for some reason we agreed that we would give it one more shot. One more chance. I don’t know why I wanted her back, it was over.”

“You must have loved her still; you got her the tattoo, proposed…”

“Things did look up after that. We were making time for each other, communicating, doing simple couple things that we had stopped doing. I felt wanted, needed by her. Sex was amazing, least I thought,” he added under his breath and Niall caught the hurt in his voice. “She’s the first person I talked to about quitting the band. I told her about the shit I was going through in One Direction but she would dismiss me as if what I was feeling wasn’t worth sharing, worth listening to.

“So I kept it to myself, and I began closing off because what was the point of sharing parts of yourself if the other person could barely look you in the eye after the confession? We barely knew each other when we were nearing our end…” Niall heard him breathing beside him. “Funny, I understood what it meant to have a long-distance relationship with Perrie.”

“What are you on about? She would travel, you would travel, and not meet for weeks so your relationship was sorta long-distance. Can’t come as a surprise to you.”

“Not that type of long distance. I’m talking about the distance of sharing a bed with someone who is falling out of love with you. Even when they have their body pressed to yours asleep, or when you’re having sex, they’re not quite there.”

Oh.

_Oh!_

It struck him, then, that Zayn was Zayn to him and not _Zayn, his boyfriend_. Zayn’s voice became background noise as his mind was going through an epiphany. All this time they were Niall and Zayn to each other but not Niall **and** Zayn. There were not boyfriend-boyfriend just.

“Stop!” he told him, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” said Zayn and Niall could hear the genuineness in his voice. “I wanted you to know what you were getting into.” His voice lowered as he continued, “To show you so much is wrong with me—Where are you going?”

“Couch,” Niall answered heading for the door.

“It’s your bedroom,” said Zayn, shiting around on the bed.

“I can’t—Sleep here.” Zayn sat back down immediately, looking like a kicked puppy at Niall. “I’ll see you in the morning,” and with that he shut the door.

 

 

 

The following morning, Niall woke with a start. While everyone knew he was secretly a cheese ball and a lover of romcoms, he was pretty sure the sun shining through the windows, the smell of hot breakfast and tea and music was all a dream. Except. He could smell food, and sun was shining but seriously, was James Blunt playing in his head or actually playing?

He cracked one eye open and his vision came into focus and found Zayn sitting before him. He yelped , his back flying off the couch and clutching his shirt, his heart beating rapidly against his heart.

“M’pretty sure I have heart attack history in my family.”

“Doubt it.”

Zayn was sitting crossed-legged on the floor, his jet-black silky hair a wavy mess that had Niall’s fingers itching to run through it. The sun was shining through the window to his right, very brightly he was praying he had not slept till noon. Before Zayn’s knees was a tray of sweet aroma of hot food, cup of tea and a bowl of chocolate cereals.

“Is that James Blunt?” he inquired when he lifted his head to take a swipe at his living room and only just noticed the various balloons sticking to the ceiling, others floating in the air. “What the fuck, Zayn?”

Zayn looked back in the direction of Niall’s sight. “Oh those,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant but Niall could _hear_ it in his voice, the apprehension. “Calder thought they were a nice touch.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t want us to fight, at all. I—said those things yesterday because I felt like you had a right to know, to know what you’re getting into before we get in too deep and months from now you’re shouting at me asking why I never told you.” Zayn covered his eyes with his aqua cast, his mouth parting the longer he hid his eyes. “I want to do this right, we start on a clean slate.”

“It’s going to be really hard.”

“I know,” he agreed, voice low and looking earnestly up at Niall who was sat on the couch.

“We’re going to work at this every day.”

Zayn nodded, serious. “Yes, of course.”

“But I want to do that because I want you.”

“Me too… wait a minute, are you quoting _The Notebook_?” Zayn questioned suspiciously. Niall bulked forward laughing that Zayn finally caught on. “Fucking hell, Niall.”

“I couldn’t resist,” laughed Niall in between his words that Zayn was smiling despite himself. “This whole time of you pretending not to be watching the movie or sleeping through it, you were listening.”

“I’m not answering that,” said Zayn stubbornly.

“You’re a bigger sap than I am, I bet.”

“You’re the sappy one, you wanker,” said Zayn defiantly.

“Oh really? You made me breakfast in b-on the couch,” he said after realizing he would have said _bed_. “You had the balloons, the music, the fucking sun shining through.” He stopped and raised a challenging eyebrow at him.

“Because you like it, you sappy fuck.”

“Isn’t this the part where you make a grand Speech with music playing in the back? James Blunt no less.”

“I would’ve started if you hadn’t interrupted. Food?”

“Tea?” he said, making grabby grabby gestures and Zayn handed him the warm cup of lemon and ginger tea, no sugar. Niall’s favourite.

Zayn shut his eyes as he inhaled, then exhaled, the entire time Niall feeling his breath shorten and slowly come to a halt. Niall clutched the sides of his cup, watching him closely as if Zayn was in a real life romcom and when he locked his gaze with his, Niall was frozen.

“There are two types of people in this world,” began Zayn then paused. “I need for the chorus to start for my grand Speech.”

“You’re a wanker,” whispered Niall under his breath. James Blunt sang through the living room, Niall’s eyes never leaving him who was looking up at the ceiling full of multi-coloured balloons. The stretch of his neck, Niall’s mouth watered at the sight, his eyes wandering down at the dip of his T-shirt where the Capricorn tattoo was sticking out, and his eyes straining hard, he could see just the tips of the tattoo wings and _oh dear_ , he was—

“There are two types of people in this world,” Zayn began again once the chorus to _Bonfire Heart_ was playing. “One are terrible people who can be Death Eaters,” here Niall gawked at the Harry Potter reference, “and the other are good people. Then there’s you: the third category which mathematically isn’t possible,” he added, going off in a tangent.

“There’s you who stops and smiles at tiny plants growing out of sidewalk cracks, you who laughs so loud you barely make a noise, you who compliments others randomly, even strangers, and it’s so genuine you can see it on their faces. You who has sun running through your veins, you who loves to take pictures of those around you because you love seeing everyone happy, you who ramble about things that you’re passionate about, or you who gets super excited about somebody’s important thing like Eleanor’s vlog, Liam’s win over Man City or some club.  You who sneaks treats under the table to Theo just so that you can see the smiles on their faces. You who blushes and stutters when meeting Troye Sivan, you who are in too deep with Harry Potter, you who reads Law books and cases for fun, you who are kind, you who are warm, you who you love, and love and love and love and love…”

Niall laughed as Zayn continued saying, ‘and love…’, on a loop still Niall gently told him to stop. Zayn got up from the flow, took the one step to the couch, bent his knee and straddled Niall. The Irish boy swallowed thickly, his hand holding tightly to his forgotten tea cup.

“The best kind of love is the one that consumes you and… I want that with you. It’s such a cruel world and in all this bitterness you stay so sweet. You light the spark in my bonfire heart,” he said at the same time the line was sang and Niall’s eyes widened comically, “from the moment in the candle shop in L.A. and Niall James Horan, it would do me the pleasure of wanting to get burnt by your sunshine… okay,” he nervously chuckled, his hair raking through his black hair, “that was meant to sound more romantic that it didn’t because it was cliché and cring—”

“It was perfect.”

Zayn’s cheeks were blushing but Niall knew his were red, hot and flaming, and once again was cursing his Irish genes for making him pale.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes for what, you haven’t asked me anything…” Niall bit his bottom lip.

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

Niall tried to play it cool, nonchalant, saying, “I don’t know…” but Zayn’s fingers trailing alongside his jawline, “I was thinking of calling Tom Fel…” Words died on his tongue when Zayn’s teeth and lips made contact with his neck. Niall shifted under Zayn, clutching his tea cup for dear life as Zayn was biting and kissing on his neck he was sure he would have another talk with his stylist, Chris.

“Actually,” said Zayn, his lips brushing his neck distractedly, “the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more,” he left a trail of wet kisses to Niall’s ear, “that plants a fire in your hearts,” he suckled on Niall’s earlobe, being reminded of that time at People’s Choice when he did the same thing to him, “and brings peace to your minds.”

“Is… is that _The Notebook?”_ he wondered breathlessly.

 He did not respond, instead he tugged on his pink earlobe, sucking on it, licking it that had his tea cup shaking between their flush chests.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, yes,” he grunted, giving in, and he pulled back and kissed Zayn passionately. He licked into Zayn’s mouth, moaning as their tongues made contact. He almost forgot Zayn had two tongue piercings and went for his tongue again. And again. And again, sucking on his tongue was his new hobby, he found.

It seemed he forgot because when he went to turn them over, the tea poured on Zayn’s shirt (borrowed from Niall) and their kiss was halted.

“Fuck, I’m so, so sorry,” he said hastily, using his blanket to pat down on Zayn’s stomach. Zayn waved him off, saying it was alright. “No, you’re wet and the tea was hot.”

“It was warm, calm down,” he told him. “And you didn’t spill that much.” Zayn took of his shirt and wiped the remaining liquid on the bottom half his chest. Niall’s eyes travelled down Zayn’s toned chest, his eyes drinking in his tattoos, olive skin that tanned properly and the dark trail of hair disappearing below his sweat pants. His eyes travelled back up and found Zayn smirking at him, his eyes twinkling, and he winked. Fucking winked at Niall.

Belatedly, he looked away to the ceiling as he drunk the remaining tea.  


**~~*~~**  
  


Niall snapped a photo of the multi-colored balloons, inserted the right filters that brought out the colors of the different balloons, and tagged Zayn in it.

Coming with a caption was easy, no doubt, as he watched the number of likes increasing by tenfolds. He felt himself grining brightly and stupidly but he loved it, he truly did because while life was not a romcom, filled with cliché moments, picture perfect snippets and Instagram photos, his sappy heart disagreed and agreed with James Blunt:

  _People like us, we don’t need that much, just someone that starts… starts the spark in our bonfire hearts !_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's get TOGETHER whoop whoop <: they're together, YESS but uh-oh, nouis are getting worse \= P.S. with the whole zerrie cheating scandal, i don't condone cheating AT ALL and it's a little sad that zayn did but *slowly walks away*
> 
> KUDOS & APPRECIATION are highly appreciated be it - or +, i don't mind ☺☺ 
> 
> take care sons!! ♦


	27. Even At My Worst, I’m Best With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn & Niall spend the Sunday together.

 

> **_It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear_ **   
>  **_When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month,_ **   
>  **_Or even your year, but_ **   
>  **_I’ll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour_ **   
>  **_I’ll be there for you, like I’ve been there before._ **   
>  **_~  The Rembrandts_ **

****

“Are you driving?” asked Niall over the phone.

_No. Chris is._

“Where are you headed?”

 _We’re headed for lunch_.

“Are you going to the place where they feed the cow with wine?”

_Yes, we’re finally getting’ round t’ it. Thanks t’ ye, Chicken._

“No worries, Ma. Ask for Jeff when you get there,” he reminded his Ma.

_Are ye keepin’ the garden well kept? Tendin’ t’ it every day? Leavin’ Turtleheads for too long wit’out water shall wilt them._

Niall lightly smiled on the phone. “I watered them this morning.”

_Good. How are ye, Chicken?_

“I’m good. I’m at the Animal Kingdom buying Zayn a pet.”

_That’s… nice?_

Niall chuckled on the phone. “It’s not that strange, Ma.” He leaned against the wall, his eyes falling to the turtle on the ground where two kids were playing with it with a staff nearby watching. “I thought I’d get him something that would cheer him up.”

_Didn’t ye buy him a kitten?_

“Malfoy? I did, yeah, but this is to cheer him up. Lately, he has been down and pets are one sure way to put a smile on his face. Heaven knows nobody does something nice for him.”

_’Xcept ye, me little light. What are ye getting’ him?_

“I told him to pick anything he wanted, which now I think about it, was a pretty big umbrella. That’s why I brought El along. He’s pretty much had every conventional pet out there, and other unconventional ones.

_Such as?_

“He had snakes, lizards, other animals with far too many legs, eyes, all of it.” He physically shivered. “Smells like manure in here.” His Ma chuckled on the phone. “I swear I’ll not get the smell off my clothes.”

_So are ye two together?_

“Yeah, we are. I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

_For?_

“For being accepting when I told you I liked boys, too.”

 _Did ye t’ink I wouldn’t? Oh Nini, yer me son ‘n’ I’ll love ye no matter who ye love. There’s nothin’ wrong wit’ that._ Pause. _Did ye t’ink I would?_

Niall’s heart ached at hearing his Ma’s voice ask quietly and he felt shame eating him from the inside. “No, Ma. Well, a little because I didn’t know how you’d react.”

_I believe in love, Chicken, ‘n’ if ye think lovin’ both boys ‘n’ girls is a mistake t’en yer wrong. Ye are who ye are ‘n’ damned be t’ose ye love ye less ‘cause of it, they’re missin’ out of ye._

“Well, I wanted to say thank you for accepting me.”

_Course. How did Tricia take ‘t?_

“The Maliks don’t like him. They’re treating differently because of it.” Niall did not want to convey anymore, feeling it was getting too personal of an issue even if it was his Ma he was telling.

_Well, we grew up differently._

Niall sighed into the phone, having heard this a thousand times before. “Yeah, Ma. We grew up differently, we don’t know what happens when people go home, you’ve said this a thousand times.”

 _T’at Arab boy grew up differently._ (Niall rolled his eyes and remained staring up at the ceiling. He had longed stopped correcting his Ma on Zayn’s race. Repeatedly he told her that he was not Arab, he just looked that way, and was indeed half-Pakistani, half-British. She would nod, Niall thought in understanding, but the next time the topic of Zayn came up, she would continue calling him Arab boy.) _Just because we love ye for bein’ gay, doesn’t mean t’e Maliks automatically ‘ave to._

“Because he’s gay?” he questioned and several eyes were on him. He looked away and lowered his voice. “That’s stupid.”

_Ye can’t change th’t fact, Chicken. Family is family ‘n’ ye can’t change someone’s family._

“I just wish he had a… different family. Tricia likes him, at least.”

 _A mother ne’er leaves her child._ Niall found himself smiling despite himself. _Speaking of child, why are ye payin’ Greg ye brother t’ look into some court case ‘bout some American mother?_

So either Greg had told Ma about the Briana v Louis child custody case or Ma pulled it out of him or… or he thought it might be the latter.

“You heard?”

_Course I heard. What are ye playin’ at? ‘N’ isn’t Louis yer friend Louis Tomlinson?_

“No… it’s Louis… Gates. Different Louis,” he lied but his Ma saw – er heard – through his lie.

_Niall James Horan ye cannot lie t’ me. Why are ye interested in yer friend’s baby?_

“I just want to know why he was having a court case with Briana over the custody of Freddie, Briana’s son.” His Ma remained suspiciously quiet over the line. “I am paying Greg for this; it’s not a bona fide case. He used that on drafting a new contract for Zayn with RCA.” His Ma still had not spoken and he could hear Chris muttering something in the car. “Okay fine,” he gave in. “I’m trying to find ways of making him pay.”

_Pay?_

“I recently found out he has been milking Zayn dry.”

_Nini, don’t get involved. Let t’is one go._

“I can’t. Did you know that the hiatus contract the four of us signed stated we had to forfeit all contact with Zayn? And in breaking that Zayn would pay for it or else he’d go to—OMG!” He cried, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “Zayn knew what would happen if he talked to me. It was in his contract.”

_What was?_

“I can’t believe I’m realizing this now. Greg had told me that there was an Clause in the contract that stated if Zayn attempted to talk to us, or try any form of relationship with us, cordial, business, whatever, he would be sued by Simon Cowell under the Sony label.”

_Yer sure the Arab boy knew this?_

“Positive” He slumps against the wall, deflating. “Okay, I don’t know. But I’m sure he did. He had too.”

_Chicken, not everyone has a knack for details when it comes t’ contracts ‘n’ all t’at; tis such a borin’ read ‘n’ I’m pretty sure ye Arab boy didn’t know._

“For some reason I think he knew, Ma. Yes, he did not read his entire contract but he knew about that Clause. I can feel it,” he said and sightlessly looked ahead of him. “But why would he? Why would he risk it? When he tweeted me? When I took him to the candle shop? Why would he risk all of it?”

_Some t’ings are worth court battles, Chicken._

“Huh?” he questioned his Ma’s cryptic response but on the other end, his Ma was saying they had arrived at the restaurant and he asked her to call him later to tell him all about the beef and hang up. Just then, Zayn appeared with a gold/yellow animal in his hands and carefully set it on his lap.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s the best we could do,” huffed Eleanor, sitting down beside with a tired sigh. “We literally went round this place three times looking for a suitable pet.”

“And you got this…?” he pointed to the gold-colored animal sitting calmly on his lap.

“I didn’t have favourites,” said Zayn, fond explicitly loud in his voice as he used his finger to stroke down the baby fluff of color, “but there’s something about ducks that always make my heart melt. That, and kittens.”

“And he already has a kitten,” chipped Eleanor, “so that was out. Though,” she was addressing Niall, “why you didn’t get a white fluffy kitten is beyond me.”

“Because Mr Malik over here only wears black so now Malfoy and him match,” he stage-whispered to Eleanor.

“Can we keep him?” Zayn asked Niall, soft and he had a small pout.

“Is this what you want?” he asked him and Zayn nodded, like an energetic 7-year old. “I just thought you’d get something you’ve never gotten before.”

Eleanor snorted beside him. “Trust me, we never found an animal he’s never had before.”

“Well there was one…” Zayn trailed off, looking between Niall and Eleanor.

“Really? What?”

Zayn led them away from the wall and deep into Animal Kingdom where the smell of manure was stronger and Niall did his best not to cover his nose. He was passing many, many animals he honestly started feeling as if he was in a zoo, or a jungle. He was not an animal person himself, and before today, he vaguely knew that about himself, but as of now, he definitely was _not_ an animal person.

Niall’s eyes fell out when Zayn stopped before a glass cage and inside were several spiky, brown pets that Zayn has never had his entire life. “A… hedge… hog?” he asked, very slowly because surely, Zayn was not serious.

Zayn smiled widely, his eyes glittering. “Never. Mom said they were poky and one can accidentally sit on it so she never allowed me to have one.”

“Hello,” a staff member dressed in a brown shirt of the Animal Kingdom approached them, “how may I help you this afternoon?”

“We’re looking into getting a hedgehog as a pet,” said Zayn, practically jumping on his tippy toes.

“Lovely little things they are,” said the staff member. He reached inside the cage and looked at them hopeful. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Her?” beamed Zayn. He quickly handed an unprepared Niall with the baby duck in his hands and Niall fumbled with it. The duck was escaping its clutches, quacking its way around his arms until it settled on his palms with a soft sit.

“Taking care of hedgehogs is quite easy, compared to some other animals but that is not to say they are easy to take care of. Firstly, they are exotic pets.”

Niall wondered what that meant but his mind was more focused on the duck sitting still in between his hands bopping its head towards Eleanor’s direction.

“They are nocturnal, like to play and run in wheels. They are also very curious and interactive and bond very closely to their owners once you spend a certain amount of time with them.”

“They do?” Zayn asked, curious.

“They do. The hedgehogs you find in pet shops are not adapted to live on their own like wild hedgehogs therefore they cannot live on their own if one, for example left them outside to fend for themselves.

“Who would do that to you,” cooed Zayn, bringing the hedgehog close to his face.

“You’re a natural.”

“He’s had every single pet that you can think of… all except a hedgehog,” sighed Eleanor dramatically and the three of laughed.

“What do they eat?”

“General foods like insects, pelleted formulas designed for them, vegetables, fruits and certain cooked meats.” The staff member rubbed downward on the backside of the spiky bundle in Zayn’s hands. “Once these fellas bond with their owners it’s the greatest feeling in the world. If you have any more questions, I’ll be around. Remember to gently put it back in the glass when you’re done.”

“Thank you,” smiled Eleanor as he walked off. “It’s so cute!”

“Can we keep her?” pleaded Zayn.

Niall blinked. “You’re seriously considering keeping a hedgehog as a pet? Of all things?”

“Why not?” Suprisingly it was Eleanor who asked, not Zayn.

“It’s… it’s… it’s a _hedgehog_ ,” he said, as if that was all the explanation he needed. “And can someone please take this duck away from me.”

“No, wait, there’s a kid who had a chick on top of his head and it looked adorable.” Niall glared at Eleanor. “C’mon try it.”

Niall rolled his eyes and grunted under his breath and Eleanor squealed in happiness. She carefully placed the duck on top of his head, ordered Niall _not to move an inch_ , and the duckling padded on top of Niall’s head.

“It’s ticklish,” he giggled.

“Don’t move!” Eleanor ordered sharply. She took out her phone and told Niall to smile. She snapped several pictures, the duck always walking in circles so in some photos the duck was looking to the left, right, wagging its behind at the camera but not one was looking _to_ the camera. “This duck isn’t moving.”

Zayn patted the duck’s back, and chin several times and somehow managed to inch the duck to face where Eleanor was holding her camera. He stroked its back in a soothing way that the duck quacked happily (how Zayn knew that, Niall would never know) and it sat down and looked at Eleanor’s direction.

“Holy shit! How’d you do that?”

“Animal whisperer, this one,” chuckled Niall. “Now take more, I’m afraid it’ll poop on me or something.”

“It loves you,” said Eleanor, after she was done taking photos, taking the duckling from Niall’s hand and the little rascal did not put a fight when it went to her. He narrowed his eyes at the duckling, hoping he would feel the rays of his—”

“Stop that,” Zayn interrupted eye-daggering, “it can sense your hate.”

Niall snorted and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why not a parrot? Or fish? I bet there’s a fish over there,” he pointed behind him to the Sea Animals section, “that looks like Dory.”

“Seriously Nini?” Eleanor smacked the back of his head. She leaned into his ear and whispered, “Look at him. With everything that’s been going on, he looks happy.”

Eleanor was right. Seeing the nose of the hedgehog sniff around his wrist, Zayn looked angelic. If he ever saw Zayn when he was 14, 15, 16 with the thousands of pets, he would look like this right now. He was soft around the edges, and Niall felt his heart melt the more he gazed at him, it ached when he saw Zayn carefully put back the hedgehog.

So Niall found himself agreeing to the hedgehog, and giving in to Eleanor’s pleas as well of saying they both needed a pet, too, to which Niall insisted on a _low maintenance one_ and they settled for a fish that, well, looked a lot like Nemo from _Finding Nemo_. He paid for the pets, and everything that the hedgehog and fish needed as first-time owners, which Niall came to realize were a lot of things, and off they headed back home.

Back at home, Eleanor began looking for a space where natural light shone best in the house, looking for a bowl as a temporary house for _Emirates_. Yes, Eleanor named the pet fish after the airline.

“We are not naming our fish after an airline,” Niall disagreed hotly. “Do you want it to grow up and be bullied for its shitty name? We might as well name it Fish.”

“She.”

“What?”

“It’s a she, not it. And we are naming it Emirates because we both know you’ll be those absent fathers.” Niall groaned loudly and for long periods to get Eleanor to stop walking around the house looking for natural light. “You thinking groaning will do you any good? We’ve lived for years together, Nini, that’s not going to work.”

“We’re not naming _her_ Emirates,” said Niall as he stormed off and headed to the guesthouse.

Zayn had moved to the guest house, stating he would like some of his own space and alone time and Niall was happy to oblige. He walked right in, seeing as the door was already open and found Zayn sitting beside the large chair where his new pet was sleeping, sinking in between a soft pillowcase and several what-looked-like-Niall’s hoodies.

“Looks peaceful.”

Zayn gazed up having not noticed Niall walk in. “She’s adorable, innit?”

“Yeah…” he agreed idly. If he was being honest, he did not see it. He was not an animal person, after all.

“I have to take Malfoy to Doniya because it won’t be safe for him to be around the hedgehog. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I?”

“You got me Malfoy and it seems like I don’t want him because I’m sending him to my sisters.’”

Niall shook his head and kissed him on his mouth. “I’m not. They’re both presents, you do whatever it is you want with them. Have you thought of any names?”

Zayn shook his head, his entire face shining as bright as a shooting star. “No! I’m still reeling I could bring her home. Though I don’t know, I’ve named so many pets before I think I’ve ran out of names.”

“You named the kitten.”

“You gave me the idea.” Niall blushed under Zayn’s gaze and looked away, eyes falling on the rolled up hedgehog. He felt the warmth before rosy lips pressed under his ear. “A thousand thank you’s.” Niall squeezed his free hand in response, not sure he would form coherent words what with his stomach in knots and feeling flustered.

“I and she are a lot alike…”

“How?”

“We both sleep during the day and stay up all night.”

Niall internally laughed at the One Direction reference alone seeing as Zayn barely took note of it. He lazily sat back, listening to Zayn talk about hedgehogs as pets, their interesting facts, the foods he will have to buy for it, and he got jumpy when he told him about how if the hedgehog were to feel scared, roll up in a ball, it would respond to his voice because of their bond.

Niall listened keenly, taking in all of his words, even if by tomorrow he would forget nearly 90% of what he had told him. That was not what fascinated him, though. It was the way he told Niall, told him about hedgehogs and keeping them as pets that Niall felt Zayn knew a whole lot about hedgehogs before, and he knew zilch.

Zayn used his hands to tell him stories, his eyes glancing towards the sleeping animal, and his eyes glowed with excitement and thrill but Niall’s eyes kept looking at the cast around his left hand. It was a stark reminder of Zayn’s family, what happened to him, but with Zayn passionately telling him how it’ll be exciting to take care of a pet he has never had before, he seemed to have forgotten all that happened in Bradford, even if it was temporarily. It was as if, watching him chat endlessly, the memory of why his arm was in cast was unknown to Zayn, and Niall found himself smiling more and more.

This world was after Zayn, from his lawyers, to the fans, his bandmates, his father, his Management, to what felt like everyone, and in all of that, Zayn always found peace in animals. Perhaps that was the reason he gave in, bought him a hedgehog. When the world pinned him down, his shoulders constantly sagging under the weight, he would smile when he saw the spiky pet, even if it was for a few minutes where he was lost with it – her – in his world, it was enough to know Zayn was safe and in return, Niall felt as if all was right in the world.

Even if for a moment.

“Hey,” Niall called just as they were about to go to bed. He sat on the edge of Zayn’s bed in the and Zayn reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers together.

“What is it?”

Niall sighed, his thumb trailing on the lip tattoo on Zayn’s hand. “I want you to tell me honestly, and don’t lie—wait, that’s the same thing,” he chuckled nervously. Zayn smiled as he sat up on the bed. “Anyway, did you know that you weren’t allowed to talk to me because of the contract? That you’d lose money and all that shit?”

“Yes I did.”

Niall searched his eyes but Zayn’s face was expressionless yet again and he nodded, more to himself. He found himself leaning into the gentle hand on his cheek and closing his eyes. Zayn kissed below his eye and Niall found himself giggling as it was ticklish.

“If someone gives you the time of the day, you’ll do anything for them.”

 **~                 ~                 *                ~             ~**  


“This can go completely wrong.”

“True.”

“You might look like shit.”

“Possibly.”

“You’ll look like a carrot. Or Ron.”

“Who’s Ron?” Zayn popped one eye open.

“Ron Weasley.”

“Okay.”

It was that time, yet again, where Niall was back to indulging in Harry Potter marathons. It was _Goblet of Fire_ this time, not _Deathly Hallows Part 2_ like always. Breakfast found them watching Goblet of Fire and Niall made a joke stating that Zayn has not tried the colours of the rainbow as hair dye. Zayn paused, putting it to thought, and said there were a few colours of the rainbow he had not tried.

One thing led to another, Zayn practically pushed Niall out the door to buy whatever hair dye colour he chose (“You were heading outside anyway!” “You’re just a lazy fuck!” “Don’t forget milk. We’re running out.”) as long as it was from the rainbow. As a cheeky smile was spreading across his lips, he picked the orange dye as he was picturing Zayn looking like Ron Weasley even though the red dye was really, really tempting.

Back at home, in his bathroom, he prepared the ingredients he need, all the necessary equipment that he shall be needing such as bowl, paintbrush, clips, rattail comb, dark towels, and others. As he was mixing the ingredients, he shouted for Zayn to come to the bathroom.  Just before he was about to apply the dye to his hair, he made sure he was ready.

“Can’t believe I’m going to look like a Harry Potter character,” mumbled Zayn. He pulled the black towel tightly around his shoulders. He closed his eyes and waited. “If you ask me one more time if I’m sure I’ll punch you in the dick.”

Niall laughed. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He followed Zayn’s instructions as Zayn had done this numerous times, first beginning by combing his hair, applying Eleanor’s lip balm along Zayn’s hairline and then did a strand test. While Zayn did not think it was necessary, Niall did it anyway. Zayn approved of the strong orange colour and off he went dyeing his boyfriend’s silky hair orange.

“My fingers look like I’ve been eating carrots since I was a baby,” laughed Niall. He was almost done dyeing Zayn’s hair, now at the back of his head. Zayn chuckled to himself, quietly. He still had the towel wrapped around his shoulders, eyes closed and looked immensely beautiful as Niall worked on his hair. “Now what?”

“Wait until whatever time is on the box before washing it with water.”

“Just water?” questioned Niall. He was washing his hands clean, using a large dosage of hand wash for his hands.

“Yes… so, Mr Horan,” said Zayn in a as casual as possible voice, “are you going to explain to me why Maura thinks I’m Arab?”

“Shit,” chuckled Niall. He sat on top of the toilet cover and looked over to Zayn who had his eyes closed but a smile playing on his delicious lips. “I was going to say somethi—wait, how’d you know?”

“I called her.”

Niall scrunched his face in befuddlement. “You called Ma?”

“Yes,” Zayn said, popping an eye open and somehow managing to raise an eyebrow and look exquisite. Niall wanted to kiss his mouth clean.

“She asked who you were one day and I told her. She said you didn’t quite look British so I said you were half-Pakistani, Dad’s side. And for some reason, the following call she started calling you ‘Arab boy’ and the name stuck.”

“Are you sure you said I was half-Pakistani? Out loud?”

Niall levelled him with a look to which Zayn’s shoulders shook with silent chuckles. “Can you curl your tongue?”

“I see we’re back to Random Niall. I missed him.”

“You did?” he asked, sounding surprised. Zayn hummed in response. “I always thought they were annoying questions.” Zayn shook his head. “So can you?” Zayn opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue and curled. “Of course you could though, what a dumb question!”

“Why?”

“Because you said you can tie a knot on a cherry stick.”

Zayn smirked proudly. “That I can. I can teach you if you want.”

“Are you scared of spiders?”

“I had a pet spider when I was 15.”

“Dumb question.”

“Are you?”

“A little,” he admitted. Zayn sat up from where he was leaning back against the bathtub. He gazed at Niall, leaning forward and a small smile plastered on his face. “Okay fine. I am scared of spiders.”

“Were you ever scared of the dark?” this time it was Zayn who asked and it surprise Niall a little.

“No,” he answered. “For some reason I wasn’t scared. Well,” he suddenly lit up, remembering his childhood bedroom, “one day when I came from school, I was like five, six or something and my entire ceiling was covered in different shapes of glow-in-the-dark stickers. I’m starting to think that me wanting to be an astronaut started then.” His voice grew soft as he continued, “Looking up at my ceiling was the same as looking at the stars at night when Greg and I would sneak up on the roof.”

Zayn smiled warmly at him as he was talking and of course Niall was not afraid of the dark. He was the walking _sun_ , wherever his foot stepped, his hand touched, his eyes laid upon, whatever or whoever it was, glowed and shined and glittered that even the Dark itself dimmed itself to let him shine. That was Niall, but that was not him.

“I was,” he said after Niall asked him. Niall waited several beats, and seeing Zayn was not going to continue, asked what it was like to be afraid of the dark. He leaned back into his former position and held onto the towel on his shoulders. “I used to leave my bedroom door open so the hallway light would seep through. I would always dread when my parents would shut out all the lights in the house because it would start.

“I would swear there were monsters under the bed, swore that my posters were growing teeth ready to eat me alive, that the hanging bulb would turn into a snake and choke me in my sleep – if I did sleep. I was terrified, Niall. I barely moved and barely slept. Sometimes, I would stay awake until the sun rose and only then would I sleep.

“One day I asked my mom if she could leave the lights on until I slept and she agreed. It felt good, finally getting a good night’s sleep but my father said no, put his foot down and said it was not the Muslim way. Allah teaches us to be strong men, to never fear anything apart from Him.”

“That’s bullshit!” cried Niall. “What does religion have to do with being afraid of the dark?”

Zayn blinked up at the bathroom ceiling, the _Harry Potter_ shower curtain to his peripheral left. “Who the fuck knows? For months I couldn’t sleep properly; I’d wake up groggy, I’d sleep in class, got detention a few times because of it and it got to the point where my parents noticed. My father told my mom he would take care of  it.”

A shiver ran down Niall’s spine. He does not want to even begin knowing what _that_ meant.

“Nothing happened for a couple of days, still couldn’t sleep, afraid whatever was under my bed would make itself known, but one night my father came into my room and he looked like a monster. My room was dark and I could make out his silhouette so what was a 6-year old meant to think? So yes, I thought he was a monster and I screamed. He clamped down my mouth and he beat me. With each hit he told me that it was all in my head and I should get over it.”

Zayn’s right hand fingers tightened around the black towel and his eyes were boring into the white ceiling Niall was afraid it would fall because of all the staring.

“The scariest nights were where there was thunder and my father would say that was Allah being angry at me for being a scared boy. It soon got to the point where I was more afraid of him than the dark. The monsters in my closest, the snake bulb, posters the imaginary creepy crawlies under my bed, everything, were not as scary as the hits I got from my father and just like that, I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore.”

“Why didn’t you tell your mom?”

Zayn shrugged not speaking. The clutch on the towel did not loosen and nor did the staring. Niall got off the toilet and locked Zayn’s head between his arms which were holding onto the lip of the tub. Zayn’s jaw was tense and he looked to his whiskey eyes, the eyes that were reliving those moments when he was a little Zayn hiding under the covers from monsters with six eyes, ten arms and three heads. Little Zayn did not know that they do not exist but it did not change the fact that he was still _afraid_.

“I don’t know what to say…” he admitted.

“There’s nothing to say.”

Niall gnawed on his bottom lip, bending over Zayn who was looking past him, up at the ceiling. If there was some way of getting the memories away, to hug away the fear, he would but Zayn would translate that to pity which would find Zayn pushing him away and muttering _I don’t want your pity_.

“Parents aren’t meant to be the cause of your pain, they’re meant to make it go away,” he started. “They should hold you, say everything will be alright. They would tell you that thunder is God taking pictures of you because you’re beautiful. It’s not silly that you think the Grim Reaper is under your bed, that the bulb hanging from your ceiling will turn into a snake or the only time you feel safe is when the sun is up because, no, they’re not meant to be the cause of your pain, they’re supposed to make it go away.”

Zayn’s bottom lip had been trembling as Niall spoke, and Niall exhaled internally when he looked from the ceiling and at him. He palmed his tatted arms as he spoke, and he finished by cupping his right hand.

“If you ever feel scared—”

“I’m not afraid of the dark,” said Zayn adamantly.

“Fear becomes much more real when we grow up. If you ever find yourself afraid of… anything, a project, your career, life, something as small as choosing between mint strawberry or chocolate strawberry and it feels like the end of the world at that moment, call me. If monsters choke you and you go back to your bedroom as Little Zayn scared of the dark I’m here. People should be afraid of their monsters but becoming one is not okay nor letting them win.

“I will be there to take it away as much as I can. I’ll will hang the stars up, the moon on the side. We will lye side by side and I point to the sky, at the thousand stars I hung up just for you, telling you about Zeus, Father of Gods and men, Poseidon, the God of the sea and storms, Hades, the God of the Dead, and of Chaos.”

“Chaos?”

“I’ll tell you all about them,” chuckled Niall, smiling wildly that Zayn found himself hesitating at fist, but soon he was mimicking his smile. “Please, please call me, okay?”

They held each other’s gaze and after another heartbeat, Zayn slowly nodded at him. It was time to rinse the dye off Zayn’s hair, seeing as they passed the limited time they were to wait for. In the end, it came out alright. More than alright, really. His entire head was an orange color, save from his roots. As Zayn was admiring his damp hair in the mirror, Niall’s stomach embarrassingly growled as loud as a whale and could he die?

Lunch was obviously next and Zayn, surprisingly with one hand, managed to whip delicious sandwiches. In the meantime, he fed the fish (“I’ve officially christened it Guinness!” he told Eleanor before she left on her vlogging trip to Japan) and checked on Zayn’s hedgehog sleeping the afternoon away on his lone couch with surrounded by his hoodies.

“Zayn!” he yelled. “ _Extreme Cheapskate_ is on!”

Extreme Cheapskate was an American reality TV show that followed the lives of those who took frugality to an extreme. It soon became _their_ show, random and odd as it was, they both loved it. They shook their heads at how the many lives of Americans who took penny-pinching to a whole other level.

“Was outside having a smoke,” explained Zayn as he rounded the couch and sat beside Niall. Shirtless. Niall’s breath was stuck in his throat, his lungs longed forgot how to work and his eyes shamelessly raked down his toned chest. “Like what you see?”

Niall rapidly looked away and down at his tuna sandwich, already too late to say he was not looking, that he was looking out the window at the beautiful sun. They watched the show as the ate their sandwiches, an Old fashioned for Zayn and good ol’ Guinness for Niall.

On today’s episode was a mother-in-law planning the marriage of her daughter, Ashley. Niall was bawling in laughter at the lengths that the mother-in-law was going to as to save money for the wedding. Her budget was an all-time low of a thousand dollars as compared to the rest of the family that had a budget of up to six thousand dollars.

“I bet you 50 quid the wedding is going to be pathetic.”

“As long as they’re happy,” said Niall, sparing a glance Zayn’s way.

“Doubt it.”

The venue was an old high school gym with falling ceilings and smelt of old socks and sweat. The bride’s wedding dress, which the pawn shop owner suspected was rat pee, was bargained for because it contained rat pee, at a fee of $50. The mother-in-law cut costs by stating there shall be no caterer, instead it would be a BYOB wedding and also, families would bring their own food. What sent Niall laughing for hours on end, was the mother-in-law opting to get one of her daughters to bake the wedding cake and they would hire a fake wedding cake that was on display at the wedding shop.

“What the actual fuck?” Niall laughed, keeling forward, now heaving.

“I can’t believe that the bride is going along with everything,” said Zayn, laughing loudly as well.

“A fake wedding cake! Imagine what that would be like when she and the groom actually come to cut the cake?”

“’Oh look at us, cutting a fake cake,’” Zayn mimicked the bride’s voice. “’Real cakes are too mainstream!’”

“Stop!” Niall slapped Zayn’s direction, his stomach pleasantly painful. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he calmed down from his high. “The mother-in-law is my hero.”

“She’s a nutter! It’s not even her fucking wedding.”

“Aww, c’mon, she just wanted to help.”

“If that were my mom, and I wasn’t doing what I’m doing now, I’d work like four jobs or summat just to make sure our wedding venue did not have falling ceilings.”

Niall laughed loudly, once again, burying his face in his shoulder. He felt Zayn’s shoulder shake with laughter, too, and soon again, he was back at it after learning that the mother-in-law ordained herself online so that no one would have to pay for someone to officiate her daughter’s wedding.

“Fucking hell!” Zayn groaned, throwing his head back on the ouch. “So poor you cannot afford a priest? Or anyone?”

“‘By the power invested in me by the internet,’” Niall cackled, quoting the mother-in-law.

“If you do that for Maura’s wedding, I will kill you,” said Zayn and Niall could not help but laugh. “I swear Niall,” he laughed his words, “if you get ordained by the power of the internet, I will shove you into the wedding cake so hard you—”

“Stop, stop! I’m going to pee!”

“This is one of the weirdest shows I’ve ever watched to be honest,” said Zayn around a mouthful of his sandwich.

“Right?” Niall agreed. “Don’t worry though, Ma would skin me alive in front of everyone if I was the one officiating her wedding instead of a priest.” Zayn raised a surprise eyebrow his way. “What?”

“Nothing… it’s just. Would Maura want you to get married in a church?”

Niall nodded, his eyes fleeting to the program running on TV. “She told me and Greg that we had to get married in a church or else she wouldn’t come. And she would haunt us for the rest of our marriage lives.”

Zayn chuckles, his lips on his Old fashioned, “I don’t know if you’re joking or…”

“I’m actually serious,” he says, smiling despite what he is saying, “and to be frank, I don’t want to be haunted in my marriage. What about you?”

“Church wedding? Not my thing,” mused Zayn and Niall playfully hit him on his shoulder. “If I’m being honest, I would like an Islamic wedding but I’m starting to see it’s only for my father. If my mom asked me to, I would, but. As long as I am happy with whoever I am with, I could care less where we got married or how… as long as there are no falling ceilings.”

Niall laughed endlessly with Zayn sinking into him. They watched other episodes of Extreme Cheapskates, one woman storing eaten gum in the freezer so she could eat them later, using hair as dental floss, another picking lobsters and almost-empty wine glasses from garbage to use in his next cooking class, and in the process, Zayn lost his appetite completely but not Niall, no, Niall ate to his fill, made more sandwiches in the kitchen and grabbed another Guinness.

The hands on the clock went round the clock, the afternoon slipping away but the sun still hotly shining (rare occasion in London) and Zayn was happily tipsy and Niall, even on his fourth Guinness, nowhere near that level, he was pretty good to drive and pass the alcoholic tests if caught.

“This is one of the best Sundays ever,” murmured Zayn, his voice smooth and velvety, Niall melted into his couch. “You know what I like about us?” Niall shook his head, slow. “I like that we’re both new at this.”

“This?”

“I’ve been in relationships, you’ve been with guys, but none of us have been in this,” he points between himself and Niall, “and it feels friendly and warm and… I want to be here. Do this. With you.”

Niall closed the distance between them with his lips. He could taste the Old fashion and the two piercings on his tongue and _Zayn_ in the kiss he thought this is what would get him drunk. It was getting him drunk, as he licked into Zayn’s mouth, his brain was melting, his brain swirling inside his head. He sank back into the couch and he swore he was floating. Zayn’s tongue licked his lips, Niall leaning in for a stronger kiss, but he would pull away and he did not have to have his eyes open to know he had a cocky smile.

“You’re a wanker.”

Zayn smiled against his lips. “I like you.”

“I you.”

“I hate to be a downer,” said Zayn getting off Niall and sitting back against the couch. “It’s been such an awesome time and we’ve bee—”

“It’s okay, snookums,” he said and paused. Did he just call Zayn _snookums_? Snookums? Even Zayn looked at him, half-amused, half-curious.

He always thought that when the accidental term of endearment happened, it would be smooth and flirty and sexy not _this_. Not Snookums. He just prayed he was not as pathetic in the term of endearments as he was with finding nicknames for Zayn (which, by the way, was still going horribly).

“The both of us—”

The fact that Zayn did not comment on the term meant, at least Niall hoped, he liked it. Normally he would comment, make fun of him coming with funny nicknames for him, but not this time.

“—have joined this— movement of sorts. We’re both gay which sadly is tough as it is, in the world we live in. Yes, they’ve legalized gay marriage, the gays can freely walk holding hands as compared to before, they can be happy but.”

“It’s not total happiness?” Niall tried and Zayn nodded, biting down on his bottom lip. He got off the couch and sat upright. He slicked an arm around Zayn’s shoulder, his fingers idly scratching on the end of his warm shoulder. “It can never be because there’re fuckers who hurl insults at them, you never know when someone will strike you for you who love, families don’t want you around—” He immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. What was he bloody thinking? “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that…”

“It’s true though.”

“But I have no right.”

Zayn was shaking his head as he spoke, “You do. We’re them, now. And I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m scared Niall,” he almost whispered, “I don’t know what’s going happen to us because we’re both gay now.”

“I’m scared, too.”

“Really?” he looked surprised.

Niall nodded, serious. “But for me it’s the fear that I won’t fully accept who I am— _what_ I am. But it being Pride Month in London, and seeing all those people marching, and not just in London but on all corners of the world, for who they are and it’s amazing to think it’s been happening for decades now. Despite everything, they march for that part of themselves, of others, of those living in the closet, of those who cannot march, they march with pride.”

“We could’ve gone.”

“Yeah but you hate _fun_.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “I don’t hate fun. It’s sunny, and loud, and so much traffic.”

“Fun,” Niall repeated.

“But I get them, now. I get the reasons for Pride month.”

“You do.”

Zayn gulped down the rest of his Old fashion as he got off Niall’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “When I went to Bradford to tell my family about you. Us. I didn’t know what to expect.”

Niall’s heart stopped beating. Zayn was telling him; he was telling him what happened when he went to Bradford. He was telling him and he was thrilled but at the same time dreaded hearing whatever it was he had to say. He saw the aftermath of the hate, and it ached him, he felt as if he was being stabbed in the lungs multiple times, but now to hear it? How it all happened? Surely, he was going to die.

“We were having lunch, with my a thousand cousins,” he attempted a joke and at least Niall smiled a tiny bit even as Zayn’s laugh fell flat. “So I got up, called everyone’s attention and said I was with you, that I like you and we’re together. The room fell silent you could’ve heard a pin drop, everyone was staring my way, nobody saying anything, and for a second I thought everyone was under some frozen spell.

“My father grabbed by my shirt and took me to the upstairs bathroom. He ordered my cousins to strip me and for a split second they didn’t do anything, relief washing over me. He barked again, telling them I was wrong, I was offensive and he was going to fix me. So they did. I fought one off, running further in the bathroom but more cousins came and there were too many to fight off.

“They hauled me into the bath as my father ordered for my uncle to boil water. Lots of it. I was stripped down to nothing, forced into the bath where I couldn’t leave so I tried to cover myself as much as I could. I could barely hear what he was saying, something about not being a good Muslim, about being gay, and before I knew it, hot water was poured on my head.”

Niall shut his eyes, his thoughts wavering to the shaken Tricia telling him what was going on. It was one thing to hear it from someone else and another for the person on the end of it say it.

“It never stopped, not once. Not when the second round of water was poured, not when I begged my father to stop, and not when I told him it was too hot. He just sent orders and the water was rising in the tub and it felt like my skin was going to melt off my bones.

“Finally, I was out of the tub and I’ve never thanked Allah before for the cold tiles on my body. My throat felt like it had been dragged through scales and my hands and legs felt like lead so I laid there on the bathroom floor. And then the first punch came. And the third. I couldn’t defend myself; one hit me in the face, so I blocked my face, the other to my stomach, so I block my stomach and as I do that another hit my leg. My father ordered them to hit me and if there was no blood, they weren’t beating it out of me.”

“… It?” questioned Niall, his voice shaky.

“Gay.”

“I could barely hold myself up from the floor anymore but I was more afraid of them seeing me naked so I hid against the bathtub. That didn’t stop them. I don’t know what they used, but it felt sharp and they dragged them down my back and it felt like… claws were climbing on my back and sliding back down.”

Niall shivered beside Zayn, his jaw hanging open.

“My father ordered them to take me to Doniya’s room and honestly, I felt like a cow being taken for slaughter. There was a split second where I was free; no hands were on me, no one was holding me down and I ran, I ran as fast as I could but I was caught and thrown to the floor. My father ordered for me to be pinned, my legs and hands were being clamped down and I truly felt like I was in a slaughterhouse.”

Zayn pushed his hair back and his head fell back to the back of the couch. His chest was moving forward and up irregularly as if he could not get enough air into his lungs. Niall squeezed his thigh, blunt nails digging into his inner thigh and Zayn cupped the hand with his cast over his, a dark reminder of that fateful day.

“My father ordered them to remove all piercings and they weren’t kind in doing so. Ears. Eyebrow. Tongue. They all went away and it felt, yet again, like I was being stripped—which I was. He kept ordering and ordering and—and all I could think was, ‘I’m so disgusting that my own father can’t touch me.’ I wasn’t worthy, I was wrong,  I was offensive to my own family.

“It was the first time I saw my mom,” he continued without skipping a beat. He had a ghost of a smile on his face. “I turned my head to the door and she was there, tears streaming down her face and I was crying, too. Probably not a good idea in the moment. My father called me weak and stomped on my hand. It was blinding pain, Niall. The worst kind in the entire world. I tried to take back my hand but my cousins had my left hand pinned and my body too. But I screamed, screamed to Allah, screamed at him to stop, screamed at my cousins, I screamed for my mom, I screamed so, so loud I think I screamed my lungs out.

“At that point he said I could be his son again if what I had said was a joke, that you and I were not together and this was all a bad joke. But I shook my head, too much in pain to say anything and he tramped on my hand. Have you ever felt your bones breaking inside your body?” Niall absently shook his head and he swallowed. “I did. I couldn’t move my fingers, I couldn’t move my hand even if I wanted and if I could I would’ve cut my hand off just so I couldn’t feel the raw pain.

“Why didn’t you?” Niall shakily asked after silence stretched between them. “Why didn’t you say it was a joke, get yourself out of it?”

“I saw you, being accepted for who you were, and sure, you did struggle to come to terms with it, but the amount of support you received was mammoth. So as I didn’t answer my father when he told me to say I was joking about it, I remembered you and I thought, ‘I want that.’ _and_ I want to be with you.”

“If you had said it was… I wouldn’t have put it against you.”

Zayn snorted. “Somehow I doubt that. You hated the fuck out of me when I didn’t want to believe I was gay so why would you not when I said we weren’t together?”

“That was because you were denying what you were,” he explained. “This is different.”

Zayn held his gaze, his eyes searching and Niall could feel his neck heat under Zayn’s whiskey eyes.

“Thanks to you and not fighting with me, I’m finally understanding that nothing’s wrong with me. It still doesn’t change what my father did, what my family did, doesn’t change that I’m now offensive to them.”

And that was it.

All night Niall twisted and turned and twisted and turned some more, sleep evading him. His mind was running with what Zayn told him, the ordeal he went through, the homophobia and sticking up for him, for them. He wanted to hug Zayn tightly, to embrace him until the memories vanished from his eyes, to hold him and reach out and whisper that it was fine, they were fine, and that he’d always be there for him. His boyfriend. His Snookums (after Zayn bidding him goodnight with a kiss, he whispered on his lips that he loved the name).

A stroke of confidence and randomness ran through him in the morning and it was the same kind that had him licking Zayn’s ear clean at People’s Choice. He got off bed, his legs wobbling a little at the adrenaline pumping through his body. He made the trip to the guesthouse where Zayn was currently sleeping in. He quietly opened the door and shut it behind him, giving a quick glance to the hedgehog asleep on the table by the window.

He could feel the pulse on his neck thicken and quicken but it was now or never. He crawled under the covers, Zayn not moving an inch, and he thanked the heavens he was sleeping on his back. His fingers dipped in his PJ bottoms and underwear and pulled them down, making sure his blunt nails scratched down his hairy thighs and legs.

Zayn stirred beneath him and then jerked when Niall’s warm breath ghosted over his half-boner.

“What are you doing?” he practically gasped.

Niall gazed at him beneath his eyelashes. “I want to make you feel good.” In his peripheral vision, he could see Zayn’s sex stand up like a soldier and tapped his cheek as if saluting. “Will you let me?” Niall’s palms flattened and roamed up his chest, passing over tattoos and pecs. “Will you let me touch you?”

Zayn gave him a frantic nod and Niall’s heart jumped out of his chest and did a Scottish dance on Zayn’s stomach. He opened his mouth wide and breathed out of Zayn’s cock and Zayn fell back onto the bed. He trailed wet kisses on the inner of his thighs, nibbling a little here and there, and moved to his other thigh, making his kisses loud purposefully. He kissed up his inner thigh, his nose on Zayn’s balls and Zayn bucked his hips when Niall lapped his tongue over them.

Niall brushed past his leaking cock and kissed his hips, leaving harsh bite marks on the sides, where his gun tattoo was, and made sure to bite around where the trigger was.

“Niall,” Zayn stammered from somewhere above him.

Niall turned his head and licked off the pre-come on his stomach, and once more, licking the dark happy trail that always drove him to insanity. Zayn would be walking around the house, shirtless, his happy trail _right there_ and all he wanted was to lick it, have it between his teeth, and kiss down to where it led.

“What do you want?” he asked between kisses he was placing around his chest.

“I’m going to come with all this kis—ah!” Niall bit his nipple and Zayn grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking it. “Fuck!”

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice gruff. He was hovering above Zayn and the boy below thrust into him, his cock on his thigh. Niall obliged, with a smirk, and kissed down his chest.

Niall’s tongue slowly licked up on the underside of his thick cock before he swallowed all of him. A string of _fuckfuckfuck_ was moaned and Niall bobbed his head up and down his cock. He pressed his tongue to his head, swirling his tongue for good measure, loving the taste of him in his mouth.

“Pl— _oh!_ —ease.”

Zayn bucked into Niall’s mouth and with a perfect gag reflex he did not choke instead swooning on the feel of Zayn’s cock hitting the back of his throat. Niall flattened his arm on his stomach and dragged his nails across it, it feeling a little damp under his hands.

“Cl-clo—there! _Yesyesyes_.”

Niall was bobbing his head, sucking and slurping and he loved it, every minute of it. Zayn’s stomach clenched under his palm when he moaned around a mouthful of Zayn, not getting enough of him. He sucked hard, Zayn thrusting into his mouth—

“Niall clos- _fuckfuck_ —Niall!”

Niall hollowed his cheeks and sucked the orgasm out of Zayn who bucked his hips, his cock hit the back of his throat, come juicing into Niall’s mouth. He swallowed all of him, every last drop, and licked his lips clean.

Zayn was breathing hard, his hands still holding onto the pillow where he had found purchase. Niall crawled above him, his hands sinking into the bed on either side of Zayn’s head. He was sure hearts were leaking out of his eyes because  gazing down at his boyfriend like this, his lips bitten raw, his eyes half-lidded and his orange hair in a stunning mess, it was _beyond_. There was no word that could capture Zayn’s aura and person after an orgasm.

Zayn caught his eyes and pulled him in for a sound kiss.

Yes, his boyfriend was simply beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's end on a funny note, yes? *trains moves from the station* & now that THAT is out of the way, we can move on to some yummy bits. idk, i thought it'd be cool to have a hedgehog as a pet, right? what do yer think?
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS highly appreciated ☺☺ all good and bad vibes. take care sons (its a scary world out there) ! ♦


	28. Setting Me Off Like Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is back to work for Niall and Zayn - with a phone call at the end of the day.

 

 

> **All my life, you stood by me**  
>  **When no one else was behind me**  
>  **With your love**  
>  **Nobody can drag me down**  
>  **~ One Direction**

           Niall and Zayn’s Instagram photos of Pride Month went viral, so to speak. Niall’s photo had a rainbow cake that he baked, with Zayn helping along (“Why don’t you bake often?” Zayn had asked and he shrugged), and posted a cut piece of it on his Instagram with Zayn holding it with the caption, _Happy Pride_ with rainbow coloured heart emojis. Zayn’s Instagram had himself kissing Niall’s red cheeks with his arms wrapped around his shoulders with the caption, _We’re only human xx_ with the rainbow and blue heart emojis. Within 24 hours, Niall’s photo had 11.2 million likes with Zayn’s trailing at 9.9 million which was a record breaker for Instagram and it was all people could talk about the entire day (and the fandom collectively not quite getting enough of _Ziall!!1!_ ).

It was back to Niall’s career life, what with him missing in action for a couple of weeks, and he had promos lined up. He would be traveling across several countries across Europe, now that his music video for _Human_ had been released, and this week he would be in Portugal, Spain, Holland, and Germany. He was excited about it, having missed performing and playing his guitar, but that was not to say he did not miss the comforts of home he had been enjoying.

Eleanor was flying to Kingston, Jamaica for her blog entry (and also it was the second most requested country that she write about on her _Where Are We Going, El?_ blog). Zayn would be flying back to New York City (thankfully, having a place to live) where he was due for a cover shoot with Complex Magazine. Harry was on a week-long break from filming _Beauty and The Beast_ , so he, too, would be heading West to L.A. where Louis was, but seeing as Liam was still free, what with the Premier League starting in August, he said he would accompany Niall on his promo.

To make sure their pet fish Emirates (which Niall named Guinness)(behind Eleanor’s back) and Zayn’s hedgehog (which he still has not named) were safe and not left to starve, he called his best mate and cousin Dio who more than happy to spend a couple of days at his place. A little too happy, if Niall was being honest. Then it hit him that whenever he finished his promo he would often find his house void of food.

But before his promo, there was the wedding catch up. Eleanor, Denise, his Ma and himself met for the wedding catch up. To prove his point, they met at The Dorchester which none of them believed he could book hotel rooms for the guests who would be coming from far for his Ma’s wedding. Niall suggested that when they were done, they should enjoy the spa. Niall shook his head as his Ma asked if he was sure he did not want to join them. As a gift, or just because he wanted to treat his Ma, he bought the three of them a spa day at The Dorchester.

Speaking of weddings, Chris was in a jam of sorts. He did not know where to take his future wife on their honeymoon. He explained to Niall, his future (step)son, that there were many places that Maura had hinted, many places she often talked about to go back and visit _and_ places she has always dreamt of going. The problem was which place and where it was not too expensive. Niall quickly offered to cover any costs – such as flight, hotel, whathaveyou – which Chris refused stating it was his honeymoon and it would be more special if _he_ paid for everything. Besides, Niall was paying for the wedding.

Together they listed all the locations – _all_ – that Maura would love to go to and they ended up with a pretty big list, a considerable amount of cities and towns from all six continents. Niall suggested that all the countries and cities in Europe be eliminated because it was close and as a married couple they could often take a plane and visit anywhere they like. Now that left five large continents and Niall promised to offer his suggestions (and not to freak out as Chris still had time to book (and plan) for their honeymoon trip).  


**~            ~          *           ~         ~**  
  
  


“Welcome to Germany, Niall,” Eliz Gödde welcomed him as they were back on air after playing his second single, _Human_. “How do you like it so far?”

Niall swang in his chair a little. “I love it here.”

“And we love your new music video for _Human_. Where did you get the idea?”

Niall smiled momentarily before answering. “It was a spontaneous idea, really. I asked El where she had never been in the world and she said South Korea, so I said, ‘Let’s go there!’ and we got the team to go on it as well. It was more of a holiday, really than work.”

Gödde had been nodding as he was explaining. “The video really illustrates your close relationship with her. Honestly, we think it’s best friend goals.”

Niall laughed along with her, and her co-hosts. “Thank you.”

“How long have you two been friends?” she asked, curiously. “She was dating your band mate, Louis, right?”

“Yeah, she was,” he answered, slow. “They broke up and we just,” he shrugged, “became close and we’ve become the best of friends. She’s like my sister, really.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My Ma got the daughter she’s always wanted.”

“Because you’re just boys in your family?”

Niall nodded once more. “It’s just me and my brother, Greg.”

“And more sons for your mom when you include your band mates?” she continued and Niall laughed in response. “Those are many boys under one roof.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Here in Germany we love to celebrate all types of love, it’s forms and shapes,” Gödde said her tone getting a little serious, “and we are happy to celebrate you coming out as a proud gay man.”

Niall scratched the spot above his eyebrow, his cheeks flushed. “Thank you, Eliz.”

“Have you always known you were gay?”

“Uh, no, actually. For me I didn’t really think of it as gay, it was just the feeling of loving your best friend in a more than the friends sort of way,” he said, trying to explain what he had been feeling the past months. Gödde nodded at him in encouragement. “My boyfriend refused any label on himself with being gay, or bi, or pan, or the other labels.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said that he didn’t want to be fit into a box and a label slapped on him,” he said, a small smile on his lips as he remembered Zayn’s voice in his head. “And I think it’s—You love who you love, sex is irrelevant because as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

“Your boyfriend is… Zayn Malik, right?” asked Gödde and Niall nodded, his cheeks on fire by now. “Fans have been wondering, how did you two meet? After him leaving the band and all? How did you rekindle the friendship leading to a beautiful relationship?”

“I talked to him on Twitter and, thankfully he replied,” he joked and the radio hosts laughed along with him, “and we were meeting ever since. The first time we met,” he added, shifting around in his seat as he recalled the day, “it was his cousin’s birthday and he needed candles. So I told him I knew a shop in L.A. that solely sold candles and that’s when we met for the first time after he left the band.”

“Do you think you two dating has brought the band together?” she asked.

“In a way yes, in a way no. If you’re asking if he’s coming back to the band, definitely not.”

They went on a break, a couple of songs playing, and Niall took the break to drink water. Well, _flavoured_ water. Niall had not been a fan of water, for the longest time, not enjoying the taste and finding the art of drinking water _boring_. Yes, boring. Eleanor repeatedly reprimanded him for it, stating he was becoming dehydrated often so now he drank flavoured water rather than plain water and it was not boring. Two stones, one bird.

_It’s not the same thing, Nini!_

He chuckled to himself as Eleanor’s voice screamed in his head. Water was water, he figured. The break was over and they were back on air.

“We are joined today by the fantastic Niall Horan! Welcome back, Niall.”

“Thank you, Eliz.”

“Your fans, thanks to Eleanor and Liam, have caught on that you are a fan of Harry Potter,” said Gödde. Niall did everything to restrain his mouth from squealing in delight. Instead, he had a dazzling smile that looked as if he were possessed. “And we have a surprise for you.”

“Me?” he gushed, his eyes twinkling at Gödde. “What is it?”

“Your German fans got you all seven of the Harry Potter series, plus _Cursed Child_ , with a special message on each of them from the author of the books.”

Niall’s jaw dropped. He must not be hearing this right. Did J.K. Rowling…? No… It could not be.

His eyes popped out of his skull as Gödde accepted a gift with galaxy wrapping and stretched her hands to hand it to Niall. Niall shakily accepted the gift, his eyes wide and open.

“I…” he trailed off, his eyes never leaving the packaged present. “Can I open it?”

“Sure, it’s yours,” Gödde encouraged, amusingly. Niall all but tore through the wrapping and there, in all its glory, were seven of the Harry Potter books, and near the last book was J.K Rowling’s latest Harry Potter book, _Cursed Child_. “I think there is a surprise on the last one.”

“The last one?”

“Which is the last book?” she asked him.

“ _Cursed Child_ ,” answered Niall absently His finger was trailing down the spine of _Order of the Phoenix_ , and he brought it to his nose. He loved the smell of new books, or rather, he loved the smell of new Harry Potter books. A whole new adventure awaited him, Hogwarts awaited him.

“One fan said that you loved one of the characters, Draco Malfoy, I think?”

“Yeah...,” he breathed.

“He wrote a message for you in the last book.”

Niall, this time, squealed, unable to contain his delight and joy. He picked the _Cursed Child_ and flipped to the front of the book. Then the first page, the second, and there, in the third page, under the title of the book, was a personalized message from J.K. Rowling herself.

“This is by J.K Rowling herself!” he exclaimed. He was squirming in his seat, overran with joy.

“I think it’s the other book with a message from Draco Malfoy,” the co-host said. Everyone in the studio was all looking on at Niall with amusement and glee in their eyes. He looked like a little boy surrounded by lots and lots of presents on Christmas morning.

“What is his real name?” asked Gödde curiously.

“Tom Felton,” Niall read his idol’s handwritten message on the fourth page of Deathly Hallows. Tom Felton himself wrote _him_ a message. _The_ Tom Felton. His movie boyfriend _talked_ to him. Knew he existed. Knew his name. Honestly, Niall could now die a happy man. “It’s really him.” He looked up from the book. “Thank you, thank you so much. I.” Words failed him at the moment. “I honestly have no words.”

Gödde understood and went on to explain. “Your German fans were excited about your coming and they wanted to surprise you. They bought the books for Harry Potter, contacted Rowling and Tom Felton on Twitter about the project they were doing and the both of them were all too happy to comply.”

“That’s—I can’t believe—OMG! —That’s incredible! —It’s too….” He looked down at the book between his hands. “I can’t… oh, my days! I’m speechless! Thank you, thank you to everyone who gave this to me, it’s. This is the greatest gift, honestly. Nothing can be better than this.”

“We’re glad you love it,” Gödde smiled across at Niall. “We’re going on another short break and we’ll be back very soon.”

The break was over in a jiffy to Niall probably because he was reading Rowling’s comments (and Tom Felton) on each of the Harry Potter books.

“Niall, today is the third year that our radio has been on air and we this whole week we have been celebrating it in threes,” said Gödde.

“Congratulations!” he exclaimed. “Big day for all of you then?”

“It has,” she conceded with a grin. “And seeing as you are on our show, we shall play a game. Sort of.” Niall nodded, giving her his attention. “We shall ask fun questions to which you shall respond to three things.”

“How does that work?” he asked, a little confused.

“For example, I shall ask, ‘What do you carry with you at any given time?’ and you answer with three things,” she explained. Niall’s mouth formed an ‘Oh’ in understanding. “Understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.”

Gödde nodded and clapped her hands t which Niall laughed at. He blamed it on the amazing gift he had just received.

“What do you carry on you at any given time?” she asked cheekily. Niall chuckled along with her as he thought of an answer.

“My two phones and wallet.”

“Why do you have two phones?” she asked curiously.

“One is my normal phone and the other is my business phone—it’s where I make calls regarding my Ma’s wedding plans.”

“Congrats to your mother, Niall! This is big news.”

Niall grinned. “It is. We’re all very excited.”

“Okay. Next, what are your favourite songs from your last album for One Direction?”

Niall scrunched his mouth to one side in thought. It had been a long time, really, but not that long as Niall was the band’s biggest fan, it was no secret. “ _Temporary Fix_ , _Olivia_ because it’s so catchy and… hmm… I think I’ll say _What A Feeling_.”

“Lovely song,” said Gödde. “Favourite Harry Potter books.”

Niall groaned, not unkind, at the question. “That’s a tricky question. They’re all my favourite.”

“Top three,” she said, the corner of her lip tugging up.

“ _Half-blood Prince_ because of Draco,” he started smoothly and then stopped. He had no idea what was his second favourite. “I don’t know, I really don’t know,” he pleaded but Gödde held two fingers at him. “ _Chamber of Secrets_ and I guess my third… will… be… _Cursed Child_ just because Draco and Harry are not enemies anymore.”

“I should remind you that these are fan questions,” said Gödde before reading the next fan question asking the last people he had called.

“I actually don’t know,” Niall said as he pocketed out his Samsung and unlocked it. “Though for sure my last call was Liam, so that’s one.” He opened his Call Log. “Okay, here we go. Liam, Eleanor, and Willie.”

“Describe Zayn.”

“Brave,” he answered with utmost sincerity. “Creative and… wise.”

“Wise?”

Niall nodded, his lips smiling shyly. “He is wise. He spends half his time in literature books or whatever, and the way he reasons things and—I don’t know, he’s just really wise. Even if he’s a little quiet,” he added, chuckling to himself as if an inside joke.

“Before we end the show, do we have a date for your next single? Album?” she asked, hopeful.

“There is no date for the album but most definitely next year,” he answered. “As for my single, I don’t know, to be honest but. Watch this space,” he said, wriggling his eyebrows and the interview ended with laughter all around.

As Niall was being driven on his next interview, his heart thrummed cheerily within him as he tweeted Zayn a lyric from a song on their last album as a band.

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_What a feeling to be right here beside U now @zaynmalik_

He smiled at his Tweet and felt his heart swell inside of him. Since when did he become _this_? It was all Zayn, he concluded. Those whiskey eyes, his chiseled cheekbones, his colored tattoos that he could never stop running his fingers along, and his kisses. Oh, his delicious kisses.

Zayn was the best kisser he’s ever had, which is saying a lot since Niall, not-too-proudly, has had his fair share of kisses from both sexes. He could kiss him till the sun rose, till it set, until it turned to the moon. The feel of Zayn’s soft lips on his, he melted into him every time, his tongue in his mouth, he lost himself countlessly, really, and he would not trade it for anything else.

There was a ding on his phone, as he had been daydreaming of his boyfriend’s kisses and he unlocked his phone to find Zayn had replied to his tweet.

 **ZAYN @zaynmalik**  
_@NiallJHoran But you got stars, they are in your eyes._

 **Nialler @NiallJHoran**  
_I wish I could be there now @zaynmalik_

Zayn, less than a minute later, sent an array of blue and black hearts and Niall did not stop smiling until he reached his destination.

 

**~               ~             *             ~             ~**

Earlier in the day, Niall had been taking walk around the sunny streets of Barcelona with Liam, taking in the culture, the music, the food (Niall having a soft spot for Paella), not forgetting to add in his free schedule buying souvenirs. Niall loved souvenirs, always had, always will, and so when he stumbled upon one, on one street in the heart of Barcelona, he pulled Liam off the street and into the shop.

He spent a good hour inside searching and choosing the best souvenirs for people back home, Liam groaning that he was taking too long, to pick the blue keychain and not the black one because he could care less and by the time Niall finally had bought souvenirs for everyone, he was even more pleased because Liam claimed he was hungry… and how could Niall say no to Squid Ink Paella.

“Assalam Alaikum, Snookums” he greets extra loudly on the phone. It was much later in the afternoon when he had toed off Zayn’s Giuseppe shoes, picked up the phone and called his boyfriend. He hears Zayn laughing on the other end and responds shyly with _Wa Alaikum Assalam_. “Hope  I pronounced it well?”

_Yeah, you did. How long have you been practicing that?_

Niall settled comfortably on the window pane, his eyes glazing over the sunset skyline. “If I’m being honest, ten minutes. I even asked good ol’ Uncle Google about pronunciation—which sounded horrible, what with the American accent.”

_Hahaha. You did it well. Nailed it._

Niall smiled on the phone. “What are you doing?”

_I was painting… well, more like spray-painting. Now that the apartment is mine, I can do whatever I want._

“What did you spray paint?”

_Bob Marley. Though I don’t think I can get his nose right. It’s always the fucking nose._

“Will you send me a picture?”

_Sure, Niall. I loved your interview yesterday with Eliz … someone. Didn’t catch her last name._

“Thanks, Snookums. I was in total shock from the gift I got from the fans. It’s—surreal. I’m still buzzing over having them books with Joanne and Tom’s handwriting.”

_Congrats!_

“Thanks… wait, how do you say thank you in Arabic?”

_Shukran. Why are you—_

“What about Urdu?” he asked, cutting off Zayn.

 _Schukria_.

Niall pressed the phone to his ear. “Can you say that? This time slowly!” Zayn repeated the word in Urdu, slow enough that Niall could repeat it without stumbling over the word.

_Why the sudden interest in Urdu?_

“If I’m being honest, I’m a little jealous?”

_Jealous? Of what?_

“That you can speak a million languages and all I know is English,” he grunted. He leaned his temple against the glass window of his Hilton hotel room. “I find it cool.”

_C’mon, Niall, that’s nothing to be jealous of. I had to learn Arabic because the Qur’an is in Arabic and Urdu I learned it because, well, my Dad is Pakistani._

“And then you know English and good enough Italian to talk to Italians,” he added. Zayn chuckled on the phone and oh dear, did he miss the sound of his laughter.

 _My Italian is not as good as you’re making it sound. I know_ basic _Italian and asking where the bathroom is… which is not that important in retrospect._

“What if you’re stuck in Rome and you’re having diarrhea?” he questioned and Zayn laughed loudly on the phone. “You’ll be grateful you know how to ask for the bathroom.”

 _You’re too much, Niall._ He laughed some more on the phone and Niall’s lips widened in a silly grin _. You’re still random and I love it_.

Niall ducked his head down, biting down on his lip from smiling too much. He listened as Zayn’s laughter died down which translated to his heart doing flip-flops inside of him. “How’s your hand doing?”

_It’s alright. I went for my check-up today and everything is fine. And just as predicted, I was stopped at the airport._

“Why?... Not for long, I hope,” he then added hastily.

_I showed them Dr Line’s letter and it helped. Like immensely like you have no fucking idea. So much better than anyone in fucking One Direction ever did._

Niall bit down on his tongue from stating the words ‘I’m sorry’ because Zayn would chastise him for pity him. Again. It was not pity, he often argued but it got serious one time, Zayn verbally angry and shouting he did not want his pity that Niall stopped apologizing for how Management treated Zayn during his time in the band.

“What are you doing now?” he repeated, instead.

 _You’ve already asked me that. What are_ you _doing?_

He heard something like cutlery clinking in the background. “I’m just looking out the window.”

_Ooh, so cliché, Niall. Are you playing sad music as your background music for your imaginary romcom?_

“Do you have any recommendations?”

_I don’t think my song choices will be good for… staring-out-the-window scenes. Like in those dumb movies you like._

“They aren’t dumb, you ass,” he huffed in mock-offense. This was a constant petty argument they had – Zayn stating Niall’s romcoms were dumb and cliché and unrealistic while Niall protested they were fantastic, end of story – and Niall was not about to have it on the phone, again. “What are you listening to any way that isn’t good for looking out the window?”

 _Future_.

“He’s… not bad, I guess. I think. I don’t know. I actually don’t know any of his songs.”

_He’s great. Do you want me to send you his album? If you want…_

“Do you have his album now? You can play a couple of songs and I can see if it’s appropriate for my scene?”

_Thought Harry was the movie star?_

Niall shifted on the window pane. “So am I, dickhead.” Laughter echoed on the other end of the phone. “I can play the scene where the Irish man stares out the window of a moving train.”

_Hmm, and what’s his name?_

“Ah shit, I haven’t thought that far.”

_You’re silly!_

So, Zayn played songs from Future’s album, _Honest_ , for Niall to choose which song he would pick if, hypothetically, he was starring in a movie and found himself in a scene where he was looking out the window. It stopped becoming about which song to pick – listening intently as Zayn played song after song – but how Zayn passionately spoke of each song on the album, of Future, and his first Future concert he went to with Jawaad and Munir during the Where We Are tour and it was one of the best nights of his life.

_Have you noticed how many rappers nowadays are having a voicemail-spoken word in their albums?_

“No, not really. Who has?”

_Well, there’s Future, which you’ve just heard. Then there’s Frank._

“Ocean?” he asked, dumbly, but Niall had to be sure. Perhaps there was another Frank artist out there that he had not yet heard of. Cut him some slack.

_Yeah. I think having the spoken word stuff on their album makes it lit!_

If Niall was being honest, he did not see the “lit” part of someone simply talking in their album, talking about random things but according to Zayn, the “Gangsta world” (he should really come with another word for it, the rappers and hip-hop artists) did this and people loved it, including himself. So, he shrugged and said _I suppose so_. Zayn laughed at him then asking which song he would like to play as background music for his train scene.

“What’s the one where Future sings about flying on someone’s back when he’s Superman?” he asked, vaguely remembering hearing the words “flying” and “Superman” as Zayn had played one of the songs.

 _That’s_ Benz Friendz _. I love that song._

Together they picked that song to be played as background music for Niall’s imaginary movie role. They continued talking some more, of Maura calling Zayn (which Niall was surprised to hear) and him confessing that she asked if he had gone to see the Grand Canyon (“She asks that all the time when I’m in America,” Niall supplied), of their careers (Zayn having a Calvin Klein spread), Niall updating him on the on-goings of the wedding (“Down to three catering companies.”), and even small things such as Zayn curtain shopping for his NYC apartment, finding saffron spices that was as good as Tricia’s, and even shower curtains.

“Why do you want my opinion?” laughed Niall.

_I have no clue on what to buy._

“Pick any superhero shower curtain and you’re good,” advised Niall.

_I did that in my old house in London; I think I want a change._

“How many bathrooms do you have?”

_Three. Two are simply glass so no point there, but the other one needs a shower curtain. Jawaad thinks I should get a plain coloured one and Doniya thinks I should buy one with the map of England._

And no, Niall was not going to let it bother him that it was only two people that Zayn talked of. He would not let it bother him.

“I think you should design your own curtain. Buy a plain, white, or black coloured curtain and then draw on it, spray paint, go crazy then hang it up.”

_That’s fantastic! Why didn’t I think of that? I should go shopping for it today…_

Niall found himself living inside of his head as Zayn planned on how he would go about designing his own shower curtain. How he was comfortable with it. See, Niall loved being around people, he cherished the company and reveled in it but Zayn was a stark contrast, often finding himself walking away from the crowd, from people, preferring his own company.

Tricia’s words came to him in the moment, of when she questioned her son’s wanting to be alone, whether it was a choice or by default. Niall could now positively state Zayn was alone by default because he came out to his family and was shunned. He moved across the Ocean to set up a Home, he left the four of them, he often disappeared without a trace and found himself alone. And now that he was _truly_ alone, Niall wondered if he got what he wanted? Was he happy now?

He tuned in to Zayn excitedly wondering which shower curtain would be best: red or white?

Zayn had been losing sleep, lots of it, in the beginning of the year and his Ma cleverly stating Zayn set himself on fire to keep those he loved and cared for warm. Emptied himself, Zayn did, so others would be whole, little did he know he had nothing left in himself. Zayn had not just been disappearing, he was fading, had always been.

Niall started, lightly hitting his head against the window. He flung his socked feet off the window pane and stood up. He walked around his hotel room, found his laptop charging by the socket and he sat on the floor where it was. He searched for the album, _Honest_ , on iTunes, purchased it and began downloading it.

There and then he made a vow to himself, and to his boyfriend (who was now debating whether he should buy a shower curtain with one colour, or two), that he would always give. He would give his boyfriend as much as he could, as much as he can, with all of himself. He would give, give, give and hopefully, Zayn would stop fading.

“How about a colorless curtain?” Niall suggested after his resolve settled within himself.

_That’s even better! Why didn’t I think of that?_

“Because you’re not as awesome as me.”

_Ha ha. You wish! You did say I was wise._

“And I meant it. You are.”

_Thank you, Niall._

Niall smiled like a goofball on the phone. “How’d you say ‘You’re welcome’ in Urdu?”

_Mehar-baani! And before you ask, in Arabic it’s Aafwaan._

“How is Arabic easier right now? Meh _something_ anni is harder to remember than Aaafan.”

_Aafwaan. And it’s not that hard. Kind of._

“Well, Aafwaan, Zayno the Mayo.”

_Not this again. Didn’t you already settle on a nickname for me? Snookums?_

“That’s a term of endearment. And I did make a promise to you that I would find a kickass nickname for you,” he said and Zayn sighed loudly on the phone.

_Give it up, Niall. Pretty sure you’ve butchered my name many times._

“I’m not one to give up, Snookums.”

  _Hold up. It’s the door._

Niall took the time to check on his downloading progress – at 47% –as Zayn walked to the door. He heard voices through the phone, a male voice he did not recognize, but it sounded as if Zayn had ordered a take-out. Pizza? he idly wondered. Speaking of food, he should see if Room Service was available. It was only ten-thirty, so yes, room service was available (he was in the Hilton Presidential Suite, after all).

He got up and walked over to the TV where he had last dropped the menu and perused it for what to eat for his… midnight snack. He already had dinner with Liam at a small restaurant in Madrid and if he was being honest, he had not been satisfied. Not wanting to witness Liam’s eyes subtly (not so much anymore since he knew about it) judging him for how much he ate, he had told himself he would eat later. Later was now.

“What are you having for… lunch?” he questioned when the voice Zayn had been talking to was no more.

_Noodles from that Thai place I showed you on 53 rd. They remembered the extra sauce, thank fuck or else I’ll start choking._

“If you didn’t keep ordering dry ass noodles.” Niall could hear the eye roll from the other end of the phone and he laughed despite himself. Silence fell between them, Niall hearing plates and paper bags in the background. He found it oddly comforting. “I miss you.”

_Niall…_

“I do.”

 _We promised each other we wouldn’t say… we’ll start_ – _you’ll start crying._

“Like you don’t–and I don’t cry, you dick.”

_Do too… But for what it’s worth, I do miss you. A lot._

“Do you miss anything else?” he asked. There was a pause on the phone, then a door-like sound shutting and Zayn asking what he meant. “I don’t know, like something else?”

_Stuff._

“What stuff?” he asked encouragingly. There was another pause, this time Niall settling into the seat and idly picking at a corner of the Hilton menu.

_You understand this is hard for me to say… out loud._

“I do, completely, Zayn, but. I want to—I want _you_ to, I don’t know, lessen your burden or summat?” he said, sounding unsure that he was sure Zayn was secretly smiling at him.

_I miss Malfoy terribly. The hedgehog which I thought I should name, either Snail, Spears or Marley._

“Marley?”

_After Bob Marley._

“If I’m being honest Marley is looking good. What on earth is ‘Snail’?” he chuckled and Zayn, too. They fell into silence once more, Niall listening to Zayn on the other end, his soft breathing a soothing sensation to him if Niall thought so.

  _My family… My mom…_

“Yeah…”

_I miss Home, Niall._

“I’m sorry about everything with your family, Zayn. I really am.”

 _I know._ Silence enveloped them once more and Niall just wanted to apparate to his apartment in NYC and hug Zayn until he was crushing his lungs. But he was here and Zayn was there with an Ocean dividing them. _And chocolate covered strawberries._

 “I didn’t know you like them,” he mused, surprised that Zayn liked anything… such. “It’s kind of a surprise.”

_Yeah, well, I haven’t eaten them in a while. Sort of my guilty pleasure._

“Well, when we meet next, we will have chocolate-covered strawberries,” he promised him and it was a long moment before Zayn spoke.

_Promise?_

“I promise you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of cuisine there [= & some Urdu + Arabic for you... nobody trusts Google translate so i had to find 'basic' words from the 2 languages that are HARD to get wrong like "hello", "thank you" etc etc 
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly appreciated ☻ i love to hear your thoughts, all + and - as they help a lot.  
> take care sons!! ♦


	29. Stay A Minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank Ocean is on both of Zayn and Niall's minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S will jardell from is one of the amazing contestants to ever grace ANTM i just had to include him in my story [=
> 
> enJOY ☻

 

 

 

> _**You're the one that gives your all**_  
>  _**You're the one I can always call**_  
>  _**When I need you, make everything stop**_  
>  _**Finally, you put my love on top**_  
>  _**~ Beyoncé**_

 

“Salad!”

“No!”

“Pick the salad.”

“What am I? A rabbit?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Rabbits eat grass and salad is grass.”

Eleanor huffed, dropped her menu on the table and rolled her eyes so hard Niall thought she was possessed.

“I got water to make up for it.”

“ _Flavoured_ water,” she corrected him. “And vegetables are part and parcel of the food pyramid. They can’t be substituted with water. Flavoured water.”

“Oi! I didn’t call you to reprimand my food choices. That’s what Victor is for, you’re my best friend and I need your advice.”

“Wait for the food to come.”

“Where did you find this restaurant even?”

Niall’s latest promo interview was taking place in Madrid, Spain. While he wanted to be in Barcelona (to meet the star players in FCB, hello Messi!), he was heading to Portugal soon and it was rumoured that Cristiano Ronaldo was back home, what with the end of the Spanish La Liga. Eleanor had come back from her trip from Mozambique and joined him on his promo (what with her being his P.A., it made sense) and Liam up and packed and went home. Niall briefly wondered why he left but he had no time to worry, what with more promo, wedding emergencies and just _life_.

Unfortunately for him, life involved _his_ own, not Eleanor’s, Liam’s, his Ma’s… just his. And his life now included Zayn.

So before our food comes, I want to improve myself,” he announced to Eleanor who had been sipping on her water. She raised her eyes to Niall’s, her glossy lips around her red straw. Niall understood the no response from her as Eleanor’s speak for ‘Continue.’ He licked his lips nervously before saying, “I am going to be gayer.”

“… what the fuck does that even mean?”

“I’m not gay enough—I want to be like Troye-gay,” he said, punctuating his sentence when Eleanor shot him a look. She sets her glass down.

“I think you’re being silly right now. There’s no ‘right’ way to be gay, no wrong way to be gay either, you are gay because _you are gay_. Troye is gay because he is, you are because you are, Jim Parsons, Jesse Tyler, Sam Smith, Tom Daley… others and they aren’t gay just because they don’t fit stereotypes.”

“Tyler Oakley,” he said in between obnoxious coughs.

“Why the sudden interest?”

Niall shook his head because in all honesty, he did not know where this all came from but just the tiny, prickly feeling he was not gay _enough_ , felt as if he was disappointing the LGBTQ+ community. Once their food came, Eleanor’s plate full of greens and Niall’s full of yellows, Eleanor waved her hand in a motion for him to begin his initial discussion.

“I got to eat first,” he huffed, stuffing his mouth with his warm, spicy meal.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “You talk, Nini, a lot and trust me, by the time we order for that lemon cake, is when we’ll get to your problem.”

“Not true,” he said, around a mouthful of his lunch. Eleanor raised a challenging eyebrow at him and he sighed inwardly. “Zayn and I haven’t had sex yet.”

Eleanor choked on her greens. “Wha-what?” she coughed her words. She took her glass of juice and swallowed a couple of gulps. “You’re going to need to explain yourself.”

“We tried being… intimate before and it went horribly wrong,” he said, shuddering at the memory. “First, I had to get tested for STIs and HIV and all that shit.”

“It’s important.”

“But I’m clean,” he protested.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “That means shit. All these STIs are transmitted very easily and carelessly because people are not safe. And if we’re being honest, you’ve been sleeping around a lot and Zayn is just being cautious.”

Niall held her eyes before his eye settled on his glass of Guinness. “I was negative, so it’s good.” He looks back at her. “I was always careful.”

Eleanor waved her hand in a dismissal gesture. “Moving on, Ni.”

“So I booked a hotel room, got candles, and champagne, rose petals, and _everything_ , it was perfect. He had never had sex before… I mean gay sex before,” he corrected once Eleanor looked at him in a puzzled manner. “And that’s fine, really, but—I think he had a lot on his mind? Or something? So it was painful the whole time.”

“So you had sex….”

“Not sex _sex_ … just blowjobs and that’s as far as either of us has gone. It was painful for him.”

“Aren’t you sort of an expert on gay sex? You’re meant to make it comfortable!”

“I did,” he said, feeling pushed to a corner. “I kissed him all of over, I cared for him, made sure he was comfortable and told him that if he did not want to do anything, it was fine. But he insisted and so we went along. We even laughed because the whole thing was nothing close to sexy… it was fun and giggly and just. Good, actually.”

Eleanor drank her juice through the straw. “Good sex isn’t _good_ but hey, first time is always the hardest.”

“I get that, sure, but it’s not like it was the only time. We tried a second time and that was even worse than the first.”

“Oh no, Niall!”

“First is the fact that I’m circumcised and he isn’t,” he began and Eleanor cocked her head to one side, fork frozen mid-air to her mouth. “Right? I don’t get what’s wrong with _not_ being cut, it’s all good, but it bothered him, I could tell. I told him it was fine, that it’s all cool, I’ve seen plenty of uncut dicks.”

“You idiot.”

“Yeah, I realized then that I shouldn’t have said that _out loud_.”

“It can only go downhill from here.” Eleanor smiled at him innocently. “Right?”

Niall huffed, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“You came off as cocky, you thunder idiot, what did you expect?”

“Anywho, he asked how many people I’ve slept with and that was not something I wanted to talk about during sex,” he said, shame and embarrassment waving through him as he remembered the conversation. “I tried to tell him that we can talk about it later but it’s like he had a block of sorts so we talked.” He widens his eyes slowly in faux-horror.

Eleanor mimicked his facial expression of faux horror. “Shit! Did you really tell him about everyone?”

“Course not,” he said, hurriedly. “That’d be insane. Buuuuut,” he stretched the word, “I told him about Will.”

“No!” she gawked.

“Yesssss,” he stretched his word, again.

“The Will?” Niall nodded in agreement. “Six-foot-six Will?” Niall continued nodding with a shy grin. “The blond, blue eyes Will?”

He laughed at her dramatics. “Will Jardell.”

“Why? You know how he made you feel.”

Niall sighed, his head resting on his palm. “I know.”

“He made you feel blessed for being who you are today. You were a bundle of nerves and hating yourself for being gay and confused and having a lot,” she held his eyes, “of sex and meeting him was perfect for you. I’m a little surprised you and him didn’t end up together.”

“I miss him, a lot,” he admitted, toying with the food on his plate. “He made me comfortable in my own skin after I knew I was gay.” He smiled shyly in the moment. “He told me about how it was hard growing up in a small town called Nederland in Texas since he was Catholic and it took a really long time for him to get accepted from family, friends—just everyone.” He sighed deeply. “I miss so much.”

Will was not one of Niall’s usual and random hook-ups during his sexual identity crisis. It started off that way but it was much more than that. They met in Vegas at a burlesque club, went back to Will’s apartment for the night. Normally Niall would have disappeared before the sun came up but he found himself still in Will’s apartment until noon. With a scrumptious breakfast, Niall was sold and he remained.

Will showed him around Texas, the sights and sites, the foods, the people, the buzz of the city, and it was light, fun and enjoyable. Niall, for a long time, had been self-conscious about his sexuality but with Will, he did not need to be. See, Will shared his story, his story of people for his entire life telling him to do things that people wanted him to do that all but left him in a bad place but once he became comfortable with being gay, he loved himself fiercely. It was then that Niall let himself go and began being confident about his bisexuality.

Will’s day job was a dancer but he wanted to be a model, though he was not sure. Whenever Niall would find himself in New York, he would tag along when Will would go on go-sees, getting a tiny clip into the modelling world which was fast, fast and fast. Surprisingly, Niall did not get bored (probably because he admired watching Will passionately go for what he wanted) and thoroughly enjoyed himself and also gaining a new appreciation for models in general.

It was tough out there for models. So tough that Will was signed onto IMG model agency and with all the travelling and fashion shows and photo shoots, and for Niall with his music career, the talks came far and few in between and eventually stopped.

“I get it, sort of. There’s just that one person who comes into your life and makes such a huge impact and they’ve got a permanent sticker of their name on your heart. In short, not everyone is meant to stay in your life as they are lessons.”

“If I wasn’t with Zayn now, it’d be him.”

Eleanor’s eyebrows raise. “You know where he is?”

Niall drank his beer before he spoke. “I Googled him some time back and turns out he was on _America’s Next Top_ _Model_ Cycle 21—”

“Shut up!”

“And he was fabulous from the beginning. And sexy. Unprecedented. Memorable and he’s just…” He shrugged, words overwhelming him with a faraway smile on his face.

“I love Tyra Banks!” Eleanor practically yelled that a few people in the restaurant turned to look to their table. “She’s the epitome of perfection.” Niall rolled his eyes, laughing lightly. “Does Zayn know about Will?”

“I couldn’t tell him. He would just know what Will meant, that he wasn’t part of the random hook-ups I had, but something way more.”

Eleanor nodded, crunching on her meal. “So back to the sexual history…”

“He hasn’t slept with as many people—six to be exact. After, it went downhill: the chemistry wasn’t there, it was awkward, it was wonky, it was sad, and,” he groaned deeply, “I gave up and said, ‘Let’s try another time.’ and yet again I spoke too soon.”

“How do you know?”

“It felt like he put a block between us and he was quiet ever since and _ever since_ we’ve not tried it again.”

“Not once?”

Niall shook his head. “Part of it is my fault, I know, because I was already giving up and Zayn was saying that we should keep going and trying and I think he took it as ‘I don’t want to be with you’ and,” he shrugged his shoulders in dismissal, then buried his face in his hands. “I’ve been wanking so hard I think my left arm is going to fall off the next time I do it.”

Eleanor laughed, actually laughed and Niall threw the peanuts in the basket by the edge of the table at her. “You’re going to get those Liam arm muscles!”

“On one hand?”

“Wank with your right!”

“I can’t get a—I’m not even having this conversation anymore,” Niall shook his head and stuffed his mouth with food as Eleanor laughed her head off. “But with all this sexual frustration, I put it into words… or song.”

“Good.”

“It’s called _Slow Hands_ ,” he revealed, “and it’s not about Zayn.” Questions marks color Eleanor’s face. “It’s about the boy with the devilish smile.”

Eleanor gasped at him, then flipped her arms around in excitement. “I remember him! He was gorgeous, Ni! Did you ever get his name?”

“Nah, never did. And I don’t think I wanna know, might ruin this fantasy I have of him, still.”

“He had this sex appeal about him, honestly.” Eleanor sighed dreamily. “He’s the one that got away.”

“Agreed. But not really because I did write a whole song about him,” he winked at her, “even if I think I should be writing about Zayn.”

“Inspiration strikes whenever it does.”

Niall snorted at her one-liner. He wrapped his lips around the rim of his glass and rank his Guinness. It kept coming back to him how lucky he had support around him when he came out, to his Ma, cousins, friends, and Zayn was one of the first people that ever knew.

He recently promised himself that he would be there for his boyfriend, just as he was there for him when he was starting to grow more into himself. Moreso, he would be the support that Will was for him, the unforgettable support and it made him feel fearless to be gay. Even though he would not be walking in six-inch, leather heels – that he would leave for Will.

Will had said that, of course, he could never deny that there were days when it would be really, really bad what with people criticizing him for being gay, or for wearing certain clothes, wearing corsets, being flamboyant, too feminine, his walk, talk, _his_ _being_ , and it was constant. The hate. Niall vividly remembered Will stating that he did not have to come out once, not a one-time event but it was every day, all day, 365 days.

Niall was a little weary about it, what with Will walking up and down his kitchen in six-inch heels for his audition the following day in NYC, and he asked if he _still_ had to come out and Will nodded, stating that it never stopped.

Leaving the restaurant with his best friend in tow and stepping into the sunny streets of Madrid, Niall made a resolve. “I’m going to prove to him that it’s okay to be gay.”

Eleanor’s grip tightened around his bicep. “I think deep down Zayn knows it’s okay but with the stress of his father, not being able to see his mom as often, losing his friends because of not only March but coming and then with you—”

“Me?” he questioned, confused.

“The sex thing, it goes deeper for him because he’s never done this with you and you giving up before he does must have affected him and it translated into you not being interested in him.”

“But I am,” he protested.

They stopped their walking, Eleanor releasing her hand on his arm and standing before him. She cupped his red cheeks (the sun never agreed with his pale Irish genes, ever) and she held his gaze, really held it that Niall shuddered before her. There was an intense look, the strong female look that he found sexy, at times.

“Because the both of you have horrible communication, Zayn not stating what he is feeling and you overthinking and getting it wrong, you are going to New York and show him that it’s okay to be gay. He needs you, Nini, even if he won’t admit it.”

“I can’t leave. I have promo to do! I have—”

“Your career can wait but not Zayn. He is across the pond, without family or friends and he might be going back into his shell. He needs a reminder that people still love him, despite everything that has recently happened.”

“Al—Okay—wait, how did you arrange everything?”

“It’s me,” Eleanor cried out as if offended that Niall thought she could not come up with something as sneaky as this. “And your flight is at five-ten today.”

 **~           ~        *          ~        ~**  


Niall was dead on his feet by the time he walked – yes, walked – to the sixth floor where Zayn was residing in his swanky, hi-tech apartment in NYC. Filled with jet-lag, old clothes, and the feel of the sun about to rise, he should have taken the lift but somewhere in his being, he thought taking the stairs would awaken him. Bad choice since he spent a good portion of his “stairs journey” dozing off on the stairs on the second floor before he jerked himself awake and climbed up to Zayn’s floor.

His long, slender finger stretched and pressed the red button and a ringing noise was heard from the other side of Zayn’s large white door with “6N” plastered on the front in gold. He rang the doorbell again after a minute or two with no response, and then once more just because and he really hoped – wished – that Zayn was home and not, say, in L.A. He should not be in L.A., though, becau—

He heard a clink on the door at the moment and the door opened. Before him, a sleepy Zayn stepped forth, shirtless and low-riding sweatpants and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Surprise!” he yelled through it came off as weak and tired. He threw his arms in the air then retreated them back to his sides and leaned his lethargic body against the door frame.

“This is sure a dream.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the P. “I’m here and—oof!”

Niall’s body was pulled away from where it was leaning and pressed to Zayn’s warm, welcoming chest. He hummed happily, settling his head into the crook of his neck and breathing his minty scent in. As Zayn trailed kisses along his neck, carefully pulling him inside his apartment, and his luggage, and shutting the door with his hand, Niall’s palms flattened on the small of his back.

They kissed soundly, albeit lazily, as they were both asleep (more Niall feeling dead on his feet), but Niall loved it, nothing was ever better than the feel of Zayn’s lips to his.

“Bed,” he mumbled to Zayn’s shoulder. “Bed, bed, bed or I’ll sleep standing up.”

“You should’ve called,” said Zayn. Niall hummed noncommittally and silently they walked to his bedroom. Niall fell face first onto the pillow on Zayn’s large bed causing Niall’s body to bounce lightly with the sudden weight. “Too tired to change?”

Niall grunted.

Zayn smiled lightly and began removing Niall’s shoes off his feet, left his socks as Niall, oddly, liked sleeping with socks, his jeans and shirt. He asked him if he would sleep shirtless and Niall’s only response was another grunt. Zayn went to his drawer, looking for PJs for Niall to wear and as he was dressing him (a rather hard task), Niall was mumbling but he could hear nothing as his face was buried in the pillow.

“Speak up, love,” he said.

“I was saying I listened to Future’s album on the plane. The one you recommended the other day,” he murmured, eyes shut.

Zayn walked to the wall to turn off the lights as Niall jibber-jabbered of which rap song he liked best ( _Blood, Sweat, Tears_ ), it being better than Zayn’s ( _Benz Friendz_ ) and as Zayn walked back to Niall now telling him that Business Class was way better than First Class on KLM and next time, they should both fly with British Airways.

“You mean KLM?”

“Nope. British Airways,” he said as defiantly as he could. “Promote our country and whatnot. Patriotism, or whatever the fuck you call it.”

Zayn laughed. “Sleep.”

Niall crawled closer to Zayn, settling his head on top of his chest and his arm snaking around Zayn’s hips. Zayn wrapped his hand possessively around Niall’s warm lower back after he had covered their bodies with a bed sheet, and kissed his temple before he fell asleep to Niall’s soft breathing.

Bright and not-so-early, Niall stretched his arms to all sides of the bed and yawned as hard as he could. It felt good and refreshing and he most certainly had not woken up feeling good for a long time. Perhaps it was the scent of Zayn on the pillow or rolling onto the side that his boyfriend had been sleeping on, or the mere fact that he was in his boyfriend’s hi-tech apartment.

“This should be a new record for you. It’s now,” Zayn looked at the clock to his right hang on the wall, “three-forty. You must’ve been really jetlagged because generally, you’re not.”

Niall pecked his lips before sitting himself on one of the kitchen chairs. “I didn’t say anything odd yesterday?”

“Not much. Just that you listened to Future on the plane.”

“That’s embarrassing,” mumbled Niall accepting the glass of water.

Zayn smiled in response. He asked him what he would like for breakfast and now, feeling his stomach growl, he was famished. He told Zayn he would have _whatever_ to which Zayn asked him to be specific.

“Normal breakfast.”

“C’mon, Niall, I don’t cook for people anymore and it’d be nice to get my kitchen dirty for once.”

Niall uttered a long, “Uhhh” in response. Truly, no one had offered  limitless options for breakfast before, not even his Ma who would always say, _This isn’t yer restaurant, ye eat what ye ‘r’ served_ , which seemed to follow him through his life. He continued stretching his, “Uhhh” as he thought of different breakfast meals and he, embarrassingly, was coming up empty. For a self-proclaimed foodie, this was shameful.

“I hope the next word out of your mouth is not, ‘Uhhh’”, he said, imitating Niall’s voice.

“Prick,” he said, and Zayn smiled at him, if not shyly. “I can’t seem to think of anything so just make whatever it is you want.” Zayn stood upright and rubbed his hands together. “What did you have for breakfast?”

“Nutella on toast and coffee, the usual.”

“Did you eat lunch?”

“Yeah. I had Tunisian beef and raisin rice.”

“I’ll eat that.”

“What?” he asked him, doubtful. “You can’t eat that for breakfast, you dolt. You need breakfast food.”

“Don’t be normal, Zayno the Payno.” Niall wrinkled his nose in the moment and Zayn cocked an eyebrow. “I meant Zayno the Ayno.”

Zayn shook his head, grimacing. “Sounds like you’re pronouncing anus wrong. And are you sure you’d like what I had for lunch?”

Niall nodded enthusiastically. “I eat everything, Snookums. You know this.”

So it went, Niall ate Zayn’s lunch for his breakfast. Niall talked about his flight, his interviews, the wedding and all the while Zayn was listening in at the same time as he was making cocktails for the both of them. Niall was amazed he did it flawlessly with one proper working hand.

“I can’t believe you watched _Downton Abbey_ on the flight,” mused Zayn. He pushed a glass of Sidecar over to Niall. “Of all the things to watch.”

“Speaking of.” Niall lit up at the moment and got off his stool and dashed off to where his duffel bag was. He rummaged through it, finding the two pieces of paper stacked neatly between his lyric journal, walked back to the kitchen and placed the two pieces of blue paper in Zayn’s hand.

Zayn’s lips slowly parted at the sight before him: two V.I.P tickets to Frank Ocean’s concert at Madison Square Garden for tonight. Zayn ran his thumb over the tickets, then looked up at Niall, shocked and stunned.

“A-are these…?”

Niall bit down on his lip from smiling too much. “Yes. Yes.”

“But how did you… when did— _Niall!_ ”

“Do you like?”

Zayn breathed out, laughter stuck in his throat. His legs jogged to Niall and hugged him tightly, with ‘Thank you’s’ and ‘You’re too good’s’ appreciating Niall. He pulled back and kissed his boyfriend, his fingers on Niall’s neck as he swiped his tongue on his bottom lip and pulling down on it.

“This—this is…” Zayn was at a loss for words, deeply sighing multiple times, and Niall could not help but giggle. He should honestly surprise Zayn more often if _this_ was what happened.

“I know you said you like Frank Ocean before? But I’m not so sure and he released his new album and I heard there were—”

He was stopped from rambling by Zayn pressing his lips to his, a warm but firm hand on the back of his neck. His lips moved to his and Niall got with the memo and kissed him back.

“You nailed it, love!”

Niall visibly relaxed in his seat. “Oh good. I thought you might not like…”

“ _You_ , probably,” joked Zayn eyes on the two tickets and not Niall, “but thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you immensely. I don’t even remember the last time I went to a concert.”

Little did Niall know this meant that Zayn and he would go on an impromptu shopping trip. While Niall had something to wear (simple shirt and pants), Zayn was not having it, stating that he was meant _the_ Frank Ocean. Niall reminded his boyfriend that he was not meeting him but attending his concert at MSG but Zayn shushed him and the shopping trip turned from Niall being his boyfriend to a personal shopping assistant.

The concert was scheduled for eight o’clock and it was minutes to seven o’clock and Zayn was still not ready and knowing the traffic on NYC roads. Niall heavily sighed. Zayn was still in his bedroom getting ready, probably re-doing his hair for the 39582nd time (Niall rolled his eyes) while he was in the living room all ready to go. He was dressed simply: black shirt and shorts, his signature Chuck Taylor’s with coloured polka dot socks and as of recently, a dark grey fedora hat. He checked himself out in the mirror and really, how had he not been wearing hats since?

The minutes began to drag, Niall having stopped reminding Zayn of the time a long time ago and he settled for going on Snapchat. As preparation for the concert, and knowing close to nothing about the artist for the night, he played Frank Ocean’s Blonde album from Zayn’s playlist so that he would not look completely lost.

“You would think years of being around Zayn that I’d be used to him taking forever to get ready but nope, I’m not,” he said, speaking to his Snapchat video. “He takes longer than the previous time and it’s not like—”

The minutes of his Snap video were up but Niall, not to be deterred, clicked to begin a new, continuous video as _White Ferrari_ was in the background playing.

“I don’t know how I’ve never heard of Frank’s Blonde before but he’s pretty rad.” He stopped to adjust his hat, showing more of his forehead and then winked at the camera. “He’s still not ready and we’re going to be late and even though he’s scheduled for eight-thirty, it’s good to be on time.”

The video cut once more, at least this time he had finished his sentence.

“I thought dating a man would mean that I wouldn’t have to wait around for so long,” he begins coughing obnoxiously, with the word ‘Eleanor’ in between, “but no, I’m still waiting—”

“Maybe if you spent more time on your dressing you’d stop saying, ‘Zayn stop trying to outshine me!’”

Niall looked directly into his camera and denied Zayn’s words. “I have absolutely never said that.”

“You’re a shit liar!”

The video cut off then and as Niall took his boyfriend in… he was still not ready. He was holding up two different coloured belts and was asking Niall which one he should wear.

“Nobody cares,” he groaned.

“Niall! It’s fucking Ocean, I need to make an impression.”

“Pick the blue one.”

Zayn lifted the hand holding the blue belt higher, studying it intently. “I feel like you haven’t thought about it. Don’t you think the orange one looks a little better?”

“So that it matches your hair? You’ll look tacky.”

“Good point,” he said as he tossed the orange belt to his far right, it clanking on the floor. “Though someone told me nothing ever looks tacky on me.”

Niall blushed furiously on the spot. It was true, though, Niall can never deny it and everywhere and anywhere Zayn went he outshone everyone; the rest were playing for seconds, and he was with ‘the rest’ category. Currently, Zayn was donned in a faded jean jacket, a black and white patterned shirt and ripped skin-tight jeans with heavy boots.

“Your jeans are tight,” he said, dumbly, his eyes not leaving Zayn’s thighs. He reached passed the space and brushed his index finger through the opening, the pad of his skin pressing against his skin, as Zayn was putting on his belt.

“You love?”

“Niall absolutely loves.” He hooked his finger through the rip and revelled in the feel of his warm thigh on his finger. “Definitely loves.”

Niall thought Zayn would move away from him, what his him sticking his finger inside his jeans, but he stayed put even as he was straightening his jacket by the collar. “You’re going to rip them if you keep doing that. Does my hair look okay?”

“Looks perfect, Snookums.”

Zayn kissed him on the lips as a way to say ‘Thank you.’ and finally, _finally_ Niall sighed in relief because they were out and in Zayn’s Audi heading to MSG. In the car, Niall insisted on playing more songs from Frank Ocean’s album which Zayn did not mind, buzzing in the driver’s seat over _meeting the best rapper in the world!_ Niall reminded him that Eminem existed, even if he has been on the low down, and Zayn added ‘new’ to his former comment.

Zayn did not stop smiling, from the moment they arrived at the venue, to when they were directed to their seats, to walking to their seats and even as they sat at their seats, he was still smiling that Niall thought his face would be stuck like that for the rest of his life.

“You can stop smiling so much, he’s not even on,” said Niall. After worrying and panicking, they were on time, rather, they were 15 minutes early to which Zayn whacked the back of his head for having rushed him (with a smile on his face, still).

Zayn squeezed his hand with his right hand. “This is so sick, Niall, you don’t get it.” He kissed each knuckle with his gaze holding Niall’s. “Nobody’s done this ever. Best date I could ever ask for.”

Niall felt his cheeks flare up, burning under Zayn’s endearing gaze. He leaned forward in his seat and kissed him fondly but Zayn was smiling into the kiss and Niall could not help but laugh into the kiss and it ended up with the both of them tasting joy on each other’s lips.

The concert began nicely. Zayn sang along, knowing the entire setlist and murmuring _Pretty Sweet_ in Niall’s ear, shouting _Pink + White_ at the top of his voice or simply singing _Ivy_ without messing up the words. Niall watched him adoringly, the movement of his hips, his hands reaching for the ceiling or simply when Zayn would wrap his arms around his shoulders tightly, too, too happy to sing along to his idol.

Niall, not knowing one song off Blonde, busied himself with recording the show on his phone, in case Zayn wanted to watch it later. He uploaded loads of videos up on Snapchat of Zayn singing, and perhaps it was the high of being at a Frank Ocean concert because he did not complain once or shy away from Niall’s camera like he always did.

After the concert, Zayn’s energy was radiant and Niall could feel it, bask in it whenever he would look his way, smile at him, touch him, kiss him, hug him tightly, he loved it. They held hands as they headed out of the VIP area towards the exit of MSG.

“Zayn?”

Niall was the first to turn at the calling of his boyfriend’s name as Zayn was re-watching the videos on Niall’s phone. Niall elbowed him softly and pointedly looked behind Zayn who turned to find a couple of teenagers.

“Sorry to barge into you like this,” one said, seeming to catch her breath, “but we were wondering if we.” She paused, turned to two of her friends standing to her right as if telepathically asking them a question. One of them nodded and she turned back to the both of them. “We were hoping to have a photo with you.”

“Sure,” Zayn easily agreed. He squeezed Niall’s arm before walking over to the three friends.

It was good, for once, that it was Zayn being asked for photos and not him. Normally, fans would ignore Zayn completely until he outright mentioned that he was with Zayn and only then would they notice him, belatedly greeting him. Other times, he would say no for photos when they were slightly rude to Zayn (who protested that it was fine, he should go back and take photos with them), while others would begin long winding stories about his singles, his life, how he’s their favourite which, yes Niall should be flattered (truly he was) but with Zayn standing a few feet away it had started to feel uncomfortable.

Niall zapped out of his trance and volunteered to take photos for them. The taller one of the three jumped at the sight, jogging on the spot in excitement. She handed him her phone, then two more phones dropped in his hands and a Canon camera and he went about taking as many photos as he could.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” she gushed. “This means the world to us.”

“It was nothing, really,” smiled Zayn, warmly. He gave her a tight hug that Niall was sure she was melting in and he smiled smugly at the sight because _he_ got those hugs on the daily.

“We want to say that you’re a huge inspiration to us,” the shorter fan said, looking suddenly shy. “You see, we’re desi fans of yours and what you’ve accomplished in a year is admirable.”

“I haven’t done much,” Zayn said. Niall could hear his voice falter in the middle and he knew he was eternally grateful. While Zayn did not like bashing other people’s opinions of himself based on what other people say, he still liked hearing that people approved. Heck, he himself liked hearing approval once in a while.

“But you have,” insisted the taller one. “My name is Aishwarya and thanks to you, you inspired me to come out to my family.”

Zayn’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? How did it go?”

“It went better than I could think. They were accepting and loving. My dad was iffy in the beginning but he said that I am his daughter and nothing would make him stop loving me.”

“I’m so proud of you, Aishwarya,” grinned Zayn. Niall’s heart ached, however, as he stood and watched the four of them interact.

“And to the Muslim community,” said the tallest one, “you are a role model.”

Zayn scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly chuckling. Niall thought it was from being flustered. “I wouldn’t say so.”

“But you are,” insisted Vishal.

“You are,” nodded the shortest one in agreement. “There aren’t many openly gay Muslims and you’re one of them and you give the rest of us hope to come out to our parents, Inshallah. We know that Allah will love us despite our shortcomings.”

“Being gay isn’t a shortcoming,” Niall found himself cutting in. The four of them turn to him and Zayn having the brightest of smiles on his lips. “Being gay does not mean there is something wrong with you, you shouldn’t avoid being gay because of fear because even if one person doesn’t love you for who you are,” his eyes sweep to Zayn who is looking back at him intently, and he held his gaze as he said, “a thousand others do because they love you, always will.”

“Thank you, Niall,” Vishal smiled. “But it isn’t that easy. We are taught that being gay is wrong, it’s against Islam and it’s something from the Western world but with Zayn,” he turned briefly to the Bradford boy, “he makes us believe that we have a chance.”

“Maybe one day we’ll march with pride with everyone else like us,” Aishwarya said.

“Inshallah,” finished Zayn and winked at him. “We’re human after all.”

 **~           ~          *            ~             ~**  
  


Not wanting to go home just yet, Niall suggested they stop by McDonald’s even if it was nearing midnight. Niall ordered chicken nuggets,  two burgers, large fries and one large soda whereas Zayn ordered two McFlurry’s.

“Your teeth will fall off one day from the amount of sugar you eat each day,” Niall said around a mouthful of chicken nuggets.

Zayn stuck out his tongue in response. So what, Zayn had a sweet tooth. A strong one at that, if Niall thought so.

“What’s that?” asked Niall, pointing to the beaded necklace hanging around his neck. “I’ve been meaning to ask but…”

“It’s a tasbih,” said Zayn, idly twirling a brown bead between his finger, “which is a prayer bead, and it’s an instrument of worship. Normally a tasbih has 99 beads but I have one with 33 alone.”

Niall sipped on his Coke. “33? Aren’t those a lot of beads?”

Zayn shook his head. “Nope because the original bead has 99 to symbolise the 99 names of Allah. It’s used to pray by reciting three phrases, 33 times. The first is _Subhana’llah_ meaning Glory be to God; _Alhamdulillah_ , All Praise is due to God; and _Allahu akhbar_ meaning God –”

“Is most great,” finished Niall. “Frank Ocean sang it in _Bad Religion_.” Zayn smiled around his spoonful of McFlurry. “It’s a bit like the Rosary, innit?”

“Yup. Most of them are made from precious stones or types of wood to remind us of and connection with Allah’s creation.”

“What’s yours made of?”

“Rosewood,” answered Zayn.

“It’s fascinating,” breathed Niall. He then stuffed his mouth with a mouthful of burger. “Why didn’t you ever wear it back in One D?”

Zayn scooped his McFlurry onto his spoon, ate it happily and dipped his white spoon back in the cup. “And then be bogged down with questions from Management, Sonny, Paul, and not only them, the fans on Twitter stating, ‘Oh, look at Zayn, the terrorist!’” Zayn grunted under his breath. “I’d rather avoid it all.”

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing. Zayn waved his spoon dismissively his way. “But I am, for all of it. For the times when we were in the band and you couldn’t practice Islam freely without Management down you—”

Zayn put his McFlurry down on the table. “Let it go, Niall.” And to make sure Niall did not say much more on the topic because he was going to seeing the way his mouth was moving uselessly with no sound, he asked him, “How are you and Louis?”

“Me and Louis?” he asks, dumbly. Zayn nodded around a mouthful of Niall’s thin, golden fries. “Normal.”

“Didn’t you say that you wanted the five of us to be brothers again? Just like ol’ times?”

Niall sighed. He purposefully munched on his burger slow, his eyes on the lights above him, the empty chairs to his left but despite it all, he could feel Zayn’s eyes boring into him. “It’s complicated,” he finally spoke.

“Not really,” said Zayn. “Louis is not talking to you because you’re dating me, rather, because you reached out to me when the four of you sort of had a deal not to. Had a contract and everything.”

Niall chewed thoughtfully on his chicken nuggets. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

Zayn set his second McFlurry cup down and leaned forward on the table. “Listen, Niall, I’m not dumb and I don’t need you sugar coating it to me. Louis misses you, he really does. You’re too focused on him fighting with me in court cases and all to see that.”

“He had no right to steal your money.”

“I don’t blame him. I’d hate me if I quit the band when we were doing well.”

“One of us,” he said under his breath.

“Louis is one of your greatest friends and losing him as a friend will hurt. Terribly,” he said and Niall thought he was not only speaking about himself. “When you look back when you’re 37 and someone asks, ‘You and Louis were friends?’ What are you going to say? No? They’ll ask why and you’ll say because of some gru—”

“It’s not a fucking grudge. It’s because he’s being such a baby about everything. About it all and if he was angry about me being friends with you I can’t imagine it now.”

Zayn gave out a long-suffering sigh, again. His hand snaked behind Niall’s neck, his fingers curling themselves in Niall’s brown hair. Zayn held his gaze then and Niall felt like he could not breathe, and he felt all of the air in his lungs disappear when Zayn pressed his lips to his. Niall tasted the McFlurry on his tongue as he kissed him soundly.

Zayn broke the kiss, his eyes finding his. His hand was still on the back of Niall’s neck, the Irish praying that he was not sweating _the fuck out_.

“I don’t want you to wake up one day with regret of not being Louis’ friend,” he told Niall. “When all this is gone and passed, you still want to look around and know that Louis is still in your life and not because you two had a fight over being friends with a fucktard.”

“You’re not—how did you know?” he stammered, surprised.

“Liam told me about your four-out-of-four group,” he explained cheekily. He sat back in his seat and went about finishing his second McFlurry.

“Did you lose a friend?” he asked, interested, but Zayn simply smiled at him and kept mum on the question. “I miss him,” he confessed after a minute or two.

“I know,” Zayn said, softly.

He wanted to ask _how_ he knew but he had one of those _Zayn_ smiles, the ones that spoke volumes as if stating he knew something he did not know. And would most definitely not be telling him. His Ma often had those smiles, but his Ma was his Ma so she did not count. Perhaps he was easy to read, he thought slurping on his Coke. He needed to start being more mysterious, as mysterious as Zayn. He was pulled from his thoughts when two fingers under his chin pulled him forward.

“You were inside your head for a minute there,” commented Zayn, his eyes searching. “What were you thinking about?”

“Do you ever sometimes wonder how we weren’t as close as we are now in One D?”

“At times, yeah.”

“Do you ever wonder why?”

Zayn lightly shrugs. “Sometimes, yeah. Like.” He gazes at his boyfriend. “We were different, in many ways and to be fair, I was kinda wanting to be alone most of the time.”

“You know what was – or _is_ – the one thing I loved about you,” he said, feeling shy all of a sudden, now that Zayn was leaning forward, his hands on the table and his McFlurry long forgotten, “is that. Well, it may sound selfish but. The one thing I loved about—Well, there are many things I love about you—”

“Niall, you’re going on a tangent,” he chuckled, his hand on Niall’s forearm.

He laughed nervously. “One thing I loved about you, back in the band, was that you loved me at my worst.”

“Worst?” he asked, puzzled. Niall mumbled under his breath. “What?”

He raised his voice. “You never found me annoying.”

“Who found you annoying?” Zayn questioned and Niall was about to answer when his eyes fell to his forearm. Specifically, Zayn’s tatted fingers making his skin burn underneath his touch. He threaded his fingers with his own and held tightly. “Who found you annoying,” he repeated and Niall was thankful he was busy chewing on the golden fries because his brain basically had oozed out of his ears.

“Just. People.”

“What people?”

“Well,” he said then hesitated, not sure if he should say what it was. “It’s… it started off like a feeling of sorts around the Midnight Memories tour, we were in Italy or Spain, I don’t know. I was heading to the soundcheck and I overhead Josh, Dan and the others say how I would always play the guitar with them when I belonged to the band. So I stopped playing and I would occasionally glance in their direction during the songs and they looked happier.

“But Liam approached me several days later and asked why I had stopped playing the guitar, even fans had noticed, and I didn’t want to worry him so I picked it up again and tried as much to ignore them. Then there was Louis who said I laughed too loud and Harry who thought I ate too much and,” he sighed deeply, “Liam. I don’t know,” he idly scratched his chin, “it was the little comments about parts of me, the way I eat, sing, food, always loud in the morning and how I hovered around everyone… even Lou thought so. I genuinely thought I was… just…”

“Being friendly?” Zayn tried and Niall nodded silently.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

“If everyone found something annoying about me, then so did you.”

“I never did.”

“You know I heard Liam ask you and the boys that one night?”

“What?”

“If I was clingy,” he revealed and he shuddered the memory of eavesdropping that night in Bus 1 feeling suddenly real to him. “And fucking everyone agreed. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not but,” he paused to blink at the ceiling and to swallow as his voice was wavering, “I just. It’s not that I found it… but if they told it to my face, told me that me being clingy was annoying. So I began overthinking it and—”

“Uh oh,” teased Zayn and Niall half-laughed.

“When’s that ever a good idea,” he said, in a chastising manner. “So I tried as much as I could to keep off everyone. S’the reason I was with 5SOS the entire time, and I invited my cousins as much as I could, kept exploring the country—just steering myself clear of all of you.”

“Fuck,” Zayn cursed. “Is that.” Zayn squeezed his hand. “Is that when I had found you wasted in your hotel room at noon?” Niall confirmed by squeezing his non-cast hand back. “Fucking hell, Niall, why didn’t you tell me anything?” Niall stuffed his mouth with fries. “I could’ve done something. Anything. Niall, we were together in this, all of it.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me anything? I would’ve helped!”

“So you didn’t find me annoying? Clingy?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “I never did and don’t. I loved your vibe and if I’m being honest it motivated me to get up in the morning.” Zayn cupped his pink cheek. “You should’ve told me.”

“I thought you thought I was annoying, everyone else did.”

“It’s not that you’re annoying. It’s just—you give so much of yourself that you don’t know when to stop giving,” he told him. “That at times can come off as… clingy.” He leaned forward and locked their lips together. “But that’s what I loved most about you, that you are thoughtful, always, always thoughtful and,” he paused, his thumb grazing Niall’s flaming cheek softly, “sometimes it saddened me that no one was that person to you. Not even me.”

“You were,” he defended.

“No,” he shook his head, “I was deep in my own shit I didn’t notice you.”

“But you did,” Niall protested, chewing on his chicken nuggets, “Though we weren’t always apart. When it came to voting for tour dates, decisions to be made and whatever, we would side together. Anything on voting really, we would.”

“We would have a laugh with the pranks we played on the boys,” he chuckled. “Or when you’d get smashed you’d crawl into the small space in my bunk in Bus One.”

“Thanks for putting up with that,” Niall said, smiling sheepishly. “You’re really cuddly which good thing for me because everyone thought it was Harry.”

“Or when we’d go watch movies together,” Zayn recalled when the both of them would sneak out just the two of them to the cinema in whatever city they were in during the Where We Are tour.

“Or the beep-beep-boop thing we did,” he beamed at Niall. “OMG! I’ve just realized that that was sort of our handshake.”

“It was,” he agreed dotingly. He dips some of Niall’s fries in BBQ sauce and eats them with Niall half-heartedly giving him the eye.

“Do you,” he huffed a breath, a wave of shyness spreading around his body but Zayn’s warm hand in his calmed the feeling a little, “Do you remember when we were in Indonesia and it was our off day? And I had ordered a pizza and you said something smells good?”

“The whole bus was smelling of chicken tikka pizza,” giggled Zayn. “And we spent the whole day together on the bus.”

“First time I ever smoked weed,” he admitted and Zayn gasped. “Good weed you had. Honestly, whatever else I had been smoking was shit.”

“I liked it because for once my life felt calm. Safe.”

“How come?”

“Well, you know I was close to Liam in the band but he and I were not seeing eye to eye cause he didn’t like I was engaged to Perrie. Harry was always off somewhere doing… whatever Harry always does, and Louis kept saying I needed to get my shit together with Perrie and the band and Liam and _everyone_ and on top of that I had been thinking of quitting.”

“Since then?”

Zayn did not look him in the eye. “It was going on for a while, Niall, don’t get me wrong. And that day we spent in the Bus was a breather and I never did thank you for that.”

“I felt the same way.”

“And then I left.”

“You had to,” Niall told him. He held Zayn’s cast hand in both of his and repeated, “You had too.”

It was nearing two in the morning and the cashier came to their table, politely telling them that they were closing. They quickly finished their meal, Niall ordering a take away of the chicken nuggets and another cup of McFlurry, and, hand in hand, they headed home. Niall felt dead on his feet by the time he was inside Zayn’s NY apartment that he collapsed on the beige couch even before Zayn had closed the door.

Zayn put all the takeaway food (Niall had barely touched his chicken nuggets) in the fridge and gently woke Niall up to get him ready for bed before he really passed out on the couch. He quickly brushed his teeth, changed into Zayn’s PJs he found in his closest and hummed happily when his body pressed itself on Zayn’s Egyptian cotton sheets.

Zayn had been bidding his mom goodnight as Niall got ready, and then his sister Doniya and Jawaad. He turned off all the lights in the apartment, after brushing his teeth and washing his face, making sure the alarm system was on and working and walked down the corridor to his bedroom.

“You’re not asleep?” he questioned seeing Niall’s phone screen illuminating his face. He shut his bedroom door and headed for his closet.

“Nah. Just checking Twitter,” he answered him.

Zayn stripped from his clothes, making sure his leather jacket was in good condition and changing into a pair of red sweatpants, opting to sleep shirtless. He walked to the large window, asking Niall if it was cool if he let in some light to which Niall agreed on. Idly, he thought of a couple weeks back when Zayn told him of how he had been afraid of the dark and wondered if he still was.

Zayn climbed onto the bed and slept on the side beside the wall and Niall stretched his hand, placing his phone on the bedside table.

“I had so much fun tonight on our date,” Zayn told him. Their ankles were tangled beneath the comfy sheets and Zayn’s hand lazy around Niall’s bareback. “Thank you for Frank Ocean. And everything else.”

“My pleasure,” he said and kissed him. “I had a great time too.”

They fell into silence. The pad of Niall’s thumb was softly tracing Zayn’s face at random, on the curve of his nose, lightly brushing his nose ring. He smoothed his eyebrow, his thumb travelling down his cheek and on his bottom red lip. Niall’s heart flip-flopped as Zayn parted his lips and he felt his breath out softly, the warmth of his breath ghosting his thumb.

He whispered, “I like you.”

Zayn’s hand pressed on the small of his back. “I really, really like you.”

 “I think it’s meant to be six really’s.”

Zayn’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“Carly’s song, _I really like you_ , she sings ‘Really’ six times and you’ve said it… nevermind.”

“Who is Carly?”

“Carly Rae Jepsen?” said Niall. Zayn flatly looked back. “The girl who sang _Call Me Maybe_?”

Zayn’s mouth formed an ‘O’ in recognition. “Oh! _Her_. She has another song?”

Niall chuckled. “She does. And it’s just as catchy though it didn’t do as well as _Call Me Maybe_.”

Zayn got more comfortable in the bed by throwing his arm over Niall’s waist, idly drawing patterns and inching his head closer to him. “So she sings ‘Really’ six times?”

“ _I really, really, really, really, really, really  like you /_ _And I want you, do you want me, do you want me too?_ _”_

Totally sounds like a Taylor Swift song,” laughed Zayn.

“ _O_ _h, did I say too much?/ I’m so in my head when we’re out of touch_ _.”_ He had stopped singing and was now whispering the words, Zayn feeling his warm breath on his own lips. _I really, really, really, really, really, really  like you.”_

“I missed you the most,” Zayn’s tone was soft and barely above a whisper. He opened his eyes, Niall’s meeting his. “Granted, I lost a lot of people in my life, and I didn’t think people would hold it against me but.” Zayn fluttered his eyes shut. “I missed our friendship the most and for a long time I didn’t think I’d ever see you—that we’d be friends again.”

“Me neither,” he told him, honestly. “For months I’d sleep in your bunk, telling people to bugger off when they do. When it came to voting, I was by myself, and the whole ‘Niall’s so annoying’ thing came back to me and—you were the only who didn’t find me annoying. Don’t get me wrong, I was pissed at you.”

Zayn nodded against the pillow. “I know.”

“You were always there for me and the next minute, it felt like you weren’t.”

Zayn smiled at him, holding his gaze. “I was so, so overjoyed when you tweeted me. But then I didn’t think you’d show up, obviously with your hiatus contract and all, but yet you did.” Zayn’s eyes water, even with the little light from the window seeping through, Niall can see it. Zayn brings his good hand up from under the covers and presses it to his right eye. “I promise not to leave, not anymore.”

“I believe you.” Niall kissed him.

“Belize.”

“What?”

“That’s where I went during Ramadhan. Where I always go when I disappear for weeks. It’s where I go when I run away.”

Niall blinked, his mouth falling against the pillow. “That’s—I’d have never pegged you as a Belize guy. Where the fuck is Belize even? Is that a city? Is it some funny place near Micronesia?”

“it’s a country bordering Guatemala and Mexico…”

Niall did not remember falling asleep but he was woken up with small jabs along his spine. He blinked awake, lolling his head on the pillow and wondering what time it was.

“Niall?”

He lolled his head around until his forehead bumped on Zayn’s warm shoulder and sleep slowly overtook him.

“Niall?”

“M’awake,” he mumbled.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

Even his sleep-induced brain could hear the worry in his boyfriend’s voice. He blinked, his eyelashes fluttered against Zayn’s shoulder, brain struggling to catch up to Zayn’s worried question.

“What?” he questioned, his eyelids feeling like lead.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

He heard it again, the tone of anxiety and something his sleepy brain could not quite pin. He slowly pulled himself off Zayn and his eyes awake, or rather, to fully listen to Zayn’s question.  Instead, he asked, “What time is it?”

“About five in the morning.”

“Have you been up?” he questioned, a little alarmed, rubbing the sleep out of his eye.

Zayn shook his head but somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that was a white lie.

“I’m here all weekend. If you want,” he added, hesitantly.

“I want.”

“Then I’m all yours.”

And Zayn slept soundly, cocooned by his boyfriend underneath the city that never slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think I'm getting better at my grammar [=  
> i didn't like Frank's latest album but generally he is a great artist, would recommend his other albums. KUDOS + COMMENTS highly welcomed with a cup of tea (or coffee, whatever you love) ☻
> 
> take care sons ♦


	30. No Side Effects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn and Niall spend the sunny NYC day together... it is almost domestic.

 

 

> **_I don’t wanna live forever_ **  
>  **_Cause I know I’ll be livin’ in vain_ **  
>  **_And I don’t wanna fit wherever_ **  
>  **_I just wanna keep callin’ your name_ **  
>  **_~ ZAYN feat. Taylor Swift_ **

Zayn screamed, “Stop!” in the morning when he lifted the bed sheets and found Niall beneath them, lips around his cock. Niall paused and looked up at him beneath his eyelashes, mouth still around him. “What are you doing?”

Niall levelled him with a look as if to ask, ‘Are you seriously asking?’ and pressed his tongue on the underside of his cock. Zayn barely contained his moan at the warmth around his hard member but his brain was still fuzzy and his mouth was well, fuzzy too. He frantically asked Niall to stop, nudging his sides with his toes.

“Are you serious right now?” questioned Niall, wiping the saliva on the edge of his mouth.  Zayn quickly scrambled up on the bed, swiftly pulling his pants up. “Is it the way I suc—”

“Stop! Just.” Zayn was blushing furiously, for the first time Niall has ever witnessed, and he pulled the bed sheets away from Niall, pulling them around his legs and bare hips. “Stop!”

Niall sat up on the bed and leaned back against the white wall. “We have to talk about this, Zayn.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Everyone in a relationship eventually has the Sex Talk.” Zayn gave him a stinging look but Niall ignored him. “So,  eh, I don’t know how these go but—”

“Do we have to do this in the morning?”

“Yes,” Niall said, indignantly. “We can’t keep skirting around the subject. Sure we tried sex before, failed miserably but doesn’t mean we should not try at all which is what it’s starting to feel like.”

Zayn rested his chin on his knees and curled his arms around them. It was clear to Niall that he would be doing most of the talking, granted he brought it up, but—communication was a two-way street and all that mambo jambo.

“Fine, I’ll go first. I’m sorry if it came across as me pressuring you to have sex with me,” he said and cringed so bad at how he phrased it but that was how it felt. “I didn’t mean to come off as a sex addict or something it’s just. Whenever I try to have sex, or like right now, you stop me and I feel like you don’t want to be intimate with me.”

Oh if Niall could die from mortification, he sure would be laying on the bed dead. He nervously looked on at Zayn, who at least was not laying his chin on his knees but gazing at Niall interestingly. The silence was unnerving so Niall found himself talking some more.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love sex.” Pause. “Ah shit, that makes me sound like a sex maniac but I am not. Promise you that. I just. Um. I want to be with you in, uh, every way possible and when you—I just really want to be with you, Zayn.”

Zayn cupped his own reddening cheeks with his hands and looked everywhere but at Niall.

“I love your penis,” he blurted and Zayn’s eyes grew wide but Niall was not one to be stopped (plus he had passed Embarrassment Ville a long time ago!). “I’ve seen it, tasted it, suck—um, I… I don’t mind that you’re not circumcised.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing, Niall.”

“I don’t mind that you’re not circumcised. So many people aren’t and they’ve lived long, vibrant sexual lives.”

Zayn pressed his hand to his forehead. “OMG! Stop talking.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t try harder with you that time when we tried having sex and it was awkward,” he apologized, “all the times we tried. And sorry for hurting you.”

Zayn threw his head back. “Ground please swallow me.”

“Isn’t that why you’re upset? Why we never have sex?” questioned Niall, puzzled. Zayn shook his head. “Then what is it?”

“When we…,” Zayn began then hesitated. He sat cross-legged on the bed, his hands fisting the cotton bed sheets. “When we tried having sex it was great in the beginning but… things got weird and odd and it just wasn’t working.”

“It’s my fault because I gave up when you wanted to continue.”

Zayn held his gaze for a while before he ducked his head. “It’s not that. It doesn’t bother me at all but Perrie’s song, _Shout Out To My Ex_ , she says that she faked it. During sex,” he added.

Niall inwardly sighed in relief, leaning against the wall. It had nothing to do with him after all. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“She sang, ‘I hope she getting better sex / Hope she ain’t faking it like I did.’ and it doesn’t bother me,” he stressed and Niall was starting to think he was reassuring himself. “Hypothetically, we say it _did_ affect me, it got into my head and I didn’t want that affecting us, affecting our relationship.”

“I… don’t get it.”

“I didn’t want our first time to be you faking an orgasm,” he confessed. “I didn’t want you to leave me because I wasn’t good in bed and you listened to the song, so you must think it’s true.”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, right,” he snorted. He buried his forehead in his hand and his orange hair flopped forward over his fingers. “So far our sex life is at rock bottom.”

“I have heard the song, Zayn,” said Niall. He wanted to reach out and hold him but Zayn would storm out of the room which he was surprised he has not already. “And I don’t believe her. I don’t think our sex life is at rock bottom because we haven’t even _had_ sex. In the conventional sense, I mean. And—and I believe that when we do, it’ll be a scream.”

Zayn raised his head from his hands and slowly looked to Niall who was sporting a wobbly smile, his fingers fidgeting on his knees by tapping them nervously. A light bulb popped above his head as an idea occurred to him. Zayn frowned, seeing Niall transform from being nervous to… was that mischievous? He sat up straight as Niall crawled over to him, his eyes never leaving his honey-coloured ones.

“When and if we have sex,” Niall said, his voice gruff. “I am going to show you how proud I am to be yours.” He pulled down the bed sheets, eyes never leaving Zayn’s. “I’ll make you scream.” His fingers slowly trailed from Zayn’s belly button along his dark happy trail to the hemline of his Hugo Boss underwear. “Make you pant…” Niall broke eye contact then and hooked his fingers into his sweatpants. There was a tent beneath Zayn’s sweatpants and he could not help but feel totally smug. “… beg for it.”

Niall pressed on the tent on his pants and Zayn bit down on his bottom lip but they both heard the strangled moan from Zayn’s lips and it went straight to Niall’s cock.

“We’ll have a vibrant sexual life,” he ended on a dramatically cheerful voice.

Zayn fell back on the bed with a loud frustrated groan. “Oh fuck me! You keep saying that and my dick will fall off.”

Niall’s hand ghosted on Zayn’s crotch and he gazed at his boyfriend tentatively. “I love making you happy, Snookums. May I?... Please?”

Zayn nodded his eyes darting between Niall’s face and the hand that was slipping underneath and grabbing his hot cock. He closed his eyes as Niall mouth wrapped around him. Two, three minutes he was fisting his hands in his sheets, his toes curling and knees locking Niall’s head as he came into his mouth.

“You’re so good,” murmured Zayn hazily. “I could…”

“Nah,” Niall shook his head, getting off the bed. “I already did.” Zayn pulled himself up and looked at him. “You’re so pretty when you come.”

“Are you hungry?” Zayn very obviously changed the subject. He slipped his sweatpants back on and made his way out of his bedroom and headed for the bathroom. “We’re going out.”

“Why?” asked Niall, entering the bathroom.

“Because New York serves the best breakfast worldwide—what are you staring at?” Zayn followed Niall’s gobsmacked stare to his shower curtains. “Oh yeah, I never showed you the shower curtain.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Niall. The said shower curtain was spray painted in the Irish flag and in the middle was a leaf clover. There was a rainbow above, stretching from the orange side of the shower curtain, to the green side where, at the bottom, there was a brown bag filled with gold coins. “I love it. It—it’s awesome.”

Zayn smiled on the spot. Niall wrapped his arms around his shoulder and smacked his lips with his. “You’re sick.”

Two hours later, Zayn was not yet ready. To fill the time, Niall checked his email, text messages, going on Twitter and doing a #MotivationNiall tweet which the fans had requested he continue doing (and wondering why he had ever stopped), snapping a photo of his outfit (he honestly had a lot of time on his hands) which was a vest with NYC scribbled on the front, red shorts and sneakers, and with how hot he was already feeling, he borrowed one of Zayn’s snapbacks to keep off the sun.

With _more_ time to kill, he opened his Snapchat, snapping videos about nothing in particular, one of them sure to mention how Zayn was taking his sweet time to get ready. Zayn promptly appeared on his Snap video denying everything.

In Zayn’s Audi, they were driving down busy NY streets with of course traffic jam _everywhere_. It was a while before they parked and entered a restaurant that Zayn swore had the best cookies. Well, it was not like Zayn was eating cookies for breakfast but, well, as long as they served food he was fine with it. Zayn sent him a puzzled look as if to ask what restaurant did not serve food?

When their food came, Niall spent a good five minutes staring at Zayn’s order of breakfast. His breakfast should have been a bowl of sugar because all that filled his plate had way too much sugar. Not forgetting the milkshake which Niall was certain has teaspoons of sugar. He was proud to say his food barely had any sugar, not that it was any better than Zayn’s but at least he was no—

“You’re talking out loud not in your head,” Zayn reminded him and Niall _oh_ -ed. “And I don’t have much sugar in my food. At all.”

“You sure?” questioned Niall, pointedly staring at his plate. “That waffle, which already had sugar, has syrup on it and more sugar _and_ whipped cream.”

“When you dated me, you knew I had a sweet tooth.”

Niall grinned at his boyfriend. “I know and I love that.” Zayn smiled at him, lips around his spoon. “So far I’ve seen you take milkshakes but today you’ve opted for a smoothie which begs the question…”

“The question?”

“Are you a milkshake or smoothie person?” asked Niall.

“Milkshake. Smoothies are so thick,” replied Zayn. “You?”

“Either, not really a chooser.”

“Good. Here,” prompted Zayn who held his milkshake for Niall to taste. “It’s not strawberry.”

Niall rolled his eyes and took a sip of his chocolate milkshake. His lips stilled around the thick straw as Zayn artfully tangled their ankles underneath the table.

“You like?”

“Niall loves,” he smiled around the straw. He took another sip before handing the milkshake back to him. “Doesn’t even look like chocolate.”

“I have something to tell you,” said Zayn after he swallowed a forkful of his sweet waffle. Niall munched on his bacon happily and indicated for him to continue. “I’m thinking of selling my apartment.”

“Why?”

“To be honest, New York is a brilliant place, the best,” Zayn said. “It was there for me when I need to get away, feel lost for a while, not think about… stuff. But it’s never felt like Home, it’s been like somewhere you don’t quite stay for long, as if you’re waiting for ‘What’s next?’ and that’s been New York for me. And now when I have some control in my life, it’s not what I need anymore.”

“What do you need?”

“I need somewhere permanent, like my place in L.A.,” he told him.

“What about London?” Niall suggested, hopeful. “You could… rent a place, like in New York. I could buy…” he trailed off as Zayn slowly shook his head.

“I can’t go back home, Niall. Not after… everything. Besides, it’s not like I can’t buy a house, I’ve been banned by the Law,” he reasoned and Niall felt guilty. It was his fault, what with trashing Zayn’s house and starting a fire with his grandfather’s makeshift bar.

Niall swallowed his bacon. “I just wish you didn’t live so far away.”

“L.A. is slowly becoming my Home and for a long time, it was the only place, after I left the band, where I could stop and breathe,” Zayn told his boyfriend. “And now with me coming out and my family basically disowning me, I can’t bear to live in the same country.” Zayn placed his left hand on the table. Niall looked up from his light blue cast to his sunken face. “I don’t know where I’ll go but I won’t forget where I’m coming from. Bradford will always be my Home.”

“You know, Ma always said that East or West, Home is always best,” said Niall, smiling through the turmoil going on in his head. Parts of him were screaming that Zayn was, in his own way, disappearing, leaving, the other parts screamed at the Maliks for chasing their son away, their uncle, nephew, cousin, and more parts yelled at the world for pushing Zayn into a corner. “But I think she was wrong, in some ways.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” he said, tearing his toast into half. The words were on the tip of his tongue, they were right there but he could barely grasp the words to explain it and it was frustrating him.

“I do agree with Maura that Home is best,” said Zayn gently. He stretched his fingers on the table and caught Niall’s, the toast falling back onto his plate. He took his longest finger in his hand and wrapped it warmly. “But it’s also about the memories of—you. Why, when you think of your childhood, you think back to Mullingar? When you and Willie catch up, it’s something about Mullingar? When you and Greg remember when you broke your knee when you and him played football with his friends? When your dreams of being a footballer ended and being an astronaut began? It’s not so much Mullingar but your memories, too. It’s the reason when you’re in London or Russia or even Brazil that you still have them.”

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“Home is where the heart is, quite simply. And Home doesn’t have to be one place, it can be several,” he added as an afterthought. “We make new memories every day, creating Homes in different places and maybe Maura didn’t mean it geographically but… in the grand scheme of things.”

“Do you know what to _always_ say?” he wondered, awed by Zayn’s explanation of his Ma’s one-liner that had had him befuddled for years. Zayn grinned at him and reached across and pressed their lips together. “How do we manage to always go on a tangent?”

Zayn laughed as he picked his glass of milkshake. “Right? We started off with milkshake persons and now we’re talking about Home.”

“Since we’re being honest, I also have something to tell you,” Niall said, feeling suddenly nervous. He chastised himself for feeling _shy_ in front of his boyfriend but well, his boyfriend had his ankle tied down and his finger linked warm around his hand so you could not really blame him. But _still_.

“What is it?” encouraged Zayn after the silence stretched.

“I wrote a song.”

“… okay.”

Niall inhaled shakily. “I wrote a song about someone.”

Zayn tilted his head to one side. “… okay. What’s the name of the song?”

“ _Slow Hands_.”

“Cool name.”

“It’s about someone I met some time ago,” he said, slowly so as not to stumble over his words and also he was having panic attack (not really, though it felt like it). When he looked to Zayn he remained skilfully blank which sent Niall’s mouth into overdrive. “It’s about some guy I met at some party—a house party—and we met and—oh shit!”

It dawned on Niall, now, that Zayn _knew_ who the person was. Sort of. His song was about the devilish boy with no name. He had been there when Zayn had come to pick him up from the devilish boy’s apartment and drive his drunken ass back to his hotel room before the Billboard Awards.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he quickly said. He drank his tea. “Nothing. It’s just—it’s about one of the guys I slept with. And,” he added when Zayn (frustratingly so) kept his face cool and blank, “my A&R, Steve and everyone think that should be my next single but—we’re dating now and it’d be weird and in interviews people—everyone will assume it’s about you but it’s not and explaining that will—”

“Niall,” Zayn stopped him and held his hand, “I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You sure?” he asked, tentatively. He was still on edge for having confessed he wrote a flirtatious song that is not about his boyfriend. “It’s apparently sexy… in a way.”

“I don’t mind that you wrote a ‘sexy’ song about someone else,” said Zayn. “We get inspiration from wherever and we go with the flow. I’m actually offended you haven’t let me have a listen. I’m sure it’s brilliant.”

“You’re sure you’re not mad? It’s about going home with the said person and having sex,” he continued on because Niall had no filter and he was having a panic-not-panic attack. “And it’s descriptive.”

“How descriptive?”

“Not as descriptive as your song with Usher.”

Zayn smirked. “That was wild. But—I wrote songs about Perrie when I was dating Gigi doesn’t mean I loved Gigi any less—though my example is bad because I was mad at Perrie at all. What I’m saying is, the final product, which is your album, should be something you’re proud of, not so much what and who inspired it.”

Niall deflated in relief that he gulped down the rest of his tea in one go. Zayn watched his Adam apple bop up and down his throat.

“Were you that nervous?” he questioned, surprised. Niall nodded, setting down the cup with a content sigh. “You don’t have to be with me.”

“I know.” Niall took his knife, applying butter on his toast that he had ripped in half earlier. “I know you won’t—make fun of me, judge me for whatever but sometimes you can be a little intimidating.”

“Me?” laughed Zayn. “How?”

“Your beard. Jaw. Eyes. Cool demeanour. I don’t know. Just _you_.”

Zayn beamed at Niall at the compliments and twirled the straw in his milkshake with his head ducked down. “You have a cool _je ne sais quoi_ about you.”

It was in the afternoon when Zayn stated he was tired and needed a rest. Since breakfast, they had been wandering around New York City, stopping by shops, restaurants, souvenir shops in which Niall splurged quite happily, being stopped by fans who squealed at their presence and wanting selfies, more restaurants (“You’ve just eaten, you prick!” “Food is my best friend!”) and from all the walking, yes walking, Zayn basically collapsed on the steps of the MET.

Curiously, Niall suggested they go in to which Zayn shot up and pulled Niall quickly inside the MET. Niall wondered if Zayn was really tired from the walking or popping into more restaurants. Whatever the reason, it was a good time as Niall got to see Zayn in his element, surrounded by art and beauty which he personally had never understood. He did not get Art, or simply, Art did not get _him_ but it got his boyfriend so he stayed, listening to Zayn explain to him some of the paintings, what they meant and who painted them but somewhere in between, Niall found a souvenir shop that had a café and he told Zayn he would find him there.

 **~             ~          *           ~          ~**  


“Habibi!” Zayn called out. “ _Botched_ is on!”

“Coming!”

The two boyfriends were back at home, Niall stating he was burning up like a vampire in the sun what with him having been born with pale Irish genes. Zayn complied, rolling his eyes extra hard, and on their way back to his apartment in Manhattan, they stopped by the supermarket to buy Nutella and cigarettes (he was out) and Niall secretly kept dropping items into the red shopping cart when Zayn was not looking… or so he thought.

Niall was currently in the bathroom, and two bottles of red nail polish in both of his hands, staring back at him. See, Niall was bi now (the Irish charm is enough for both sexes, he always argued) and with being bisexual came endless categories, definitions, worlds, universes just waiting to be explored. If he was being honest, he did not know if he was exploring the world or learning more about himself.

When they were in the supermarket, and he kept popping useless items into the shopping cart, enough to make Zayn leave him by the cart to return non-alcoholic champagne, balloons, baby socks, nut butter (“It’s healthier than Nutella!” “Looks like shit, Habibi”), and other random items, he walked the other way, passed three aisles, walked up the white-tiled aisle and stopped in front of the cosmetics section and exhaled; first step complete.

He had not realized there were many choices for nail polish. There was various colours of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, pinks, whites, and _oh dear_ , there was more than five types of white nail polish, and even a colour called Starlle. Time not being on his side, he hastily picked the red nail polish – a bright, neon-almost red – and rushed to the cashier to pay for it before Zayn found him with the small bottle in his hand and begin asking all sorts of questions of why he was buying one, or _who was it for_ , maybe even _why did he buy one for Eleanor_ , and the dreaded one when he confesses it was _his_ nail polish not someone else’s.

He held the nail polish tightly in his left hand, slowly breathing through his parted lips. He found himself in an internal debate on whether he should apply one coat now or later—but he had the curiosity of a baby so he said, _to hell_ , and unscrewed the cap.

_Quack!_

His head spun so quick he had whiplash. The red bottle in his hand fell into the sink, the red liquid spilling out but Niall could care less. What had he just heard? He stretched his hand towards the shower curtain. It sounded more of a…

_Quack!_

Niall came face-to-face with a fully grown, black-and-yellow duck paddling in the tub full of water. He stared, his hand frozen on the shower curtain, at the duck that was peacefully paddling around on the water. It quacked again which pulled Niall out of his reverie and he called out to his boyfriend. His eyes did not leave the swimming duck as he heard feet padding, the door to the bathroom door opening and Zayn walking in.

“I have too many questions,” said Niall, honestly, “but maybe you explaining this would be better.”

“It’s my neighbour’s duck,” answered Zayn, unfazed by Niall’s startled expression. He bent his knees and the duck happily quacked at him. “They went on holiday and will be back on Tuesday so I volunteered to take care of Batman here.”

“Keep talking because I have many questions,” encouraged Niall. He had recovered by now and was no longer holding the shower curtain. Instead, he was very interested in admiring how Zayn’s full attention was focused on the swimming duck which was now bending its neck, pecking at the palm of Zayn’s right hand.

“I have extra rooms around so I used one of them for Batman here,” he said, leaning his face toward the duck. “I set up its home, food, bath and all. When you were on the balcony talking to Maura, I thought it might want to properly swim.”

“What do you mean ‘properly swim’?”

“I got an inflated pool in the room but it’s not that deep plus I’m scared she’ll poke the pool with her beak one day.”

“ _She?”_ blurted Niall. “She? Pretty sure Batman is male.”

Zayn turned his head from the duck to look up at Niall. “They are a pretty gender fluid couple.”

“Odd enough to use a clear male name for a female duck,” snorted Niall. “How on earth did you even become friends with the couple—on a second note, I don’t want to know,” he hurriedly changed his mind as Zayn was about to answer. “How have you managed to hide the duck though?”

“Well, you came late last night and today we’ve been out for the most part. Plus,” he added as he stood up from the floor. Batman had paddled away from him sensing Zayn’s full attention was not on her anymore, “I didn’t think you’d open the curtain.”

“It quacked.”

“She.”

“ _She_ quacked,” he corrected.

Zayn’s face spoke of surprise. “She did?” He followed Batman making her way towards the other end of the tub. “She’s generally quiet.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“They said she was shy…” he let his sentence peter out and Niall finished the sentence by looking at Batman popping its head underneath the water a couple of times. “Wait a minute, what were you doing anyway?”

“It’s a bathroom, Zayn.” His stomach fell to his feet because this was it, this was the moment of reckoning.

“You weren’t actually using any part of the bathroom when.” Zayn punctuated his sentence, taking in his bathroom for the first time. His eyes land on something bright crimson in the stark white, bowl sink. “Are you bleeding?”

Niall inwardly cursed in Russian several times in a row.

“Is that…?” Zayn gingerly picked the nail polish bottle from the sink and raised it to eye-level. “… nail polish?” He turned to Niall, bottle in his right hand. “Niall?”

“I got it for you.”

Zayn frowned. Batman quacked and Niall startled, forgetting she was there.

Niall was in panic mode now. “Happy Mubarak.”

Zayn’s frown deepened. “What?”

“Jolly Eid.”

“Are you high, Habibi? You didn’t eat those brownies that that guy with the beanie was offering?” he asked faintly and Niall shook his head, not trusting his tongue to answer for him coherently. “Why do you have red nail polish?”

Niall swallowed and his eyes bored to the tiny bottle in between Zayn’s fingers.  The silence stretched between them, so long that Niall was wondering if Zayn could read his thoughts and see what had happened at the supermarket when he picked the polish. Batman quacked and Zayn pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand in a cast.

He turned towards the sink, letting the water pour into the sink and the polish began going down the drain. He closed the red nail polish and settled it on top of the sink, right by his hip where he leaned against the sink.

“I was in the supermarket when I found the aisle with nail polishes,” he admitted, quiet. Zayn turned off the tap, wiped his hands on the hand towel and joined him on the floor where Niall was looking at Batman paddling happily around the clear water. “And it’s the first time I was self-conscious about being bi.”

“How so?” asked Zayn.

“When I got the polish, these two women were on the opposite side looking at, I don’t even remember, but they were there,” he began. His fingers were playing with the loose piece of string of his shorts. “They asked if I was buying it for my girlfriend, I said no. Was it a present for a female, I said no. They looked at me like I had grown three heads like the dog in _Philosopher’s Stone_ when I told them it was mine.

“I had the bottle clutched in my hand, very visible, and they kept staring at me and they began looking at me like I was stinking real bad. They asked if I was trans, I said no if I was gay and I was so, so close to denying it. I was so close,” he repeated earnestly. “You don’t get it, Zayn, so close.”

“I do get it,” he said, feeling a little offended that his boyfriend was accusing him of it. Niall seemed to realise this and he apologized for it.

“I’m sorry! Shit, that’s not what I meant.”

“Did you deny… it? That,” he paused, his eyes on Niall’s finger pulling at the string on his shorts, “that you were gay?”

“I didn’t have time to do either, anyway, because they said that gay people shouldn’t be allowed to walk on this Earth, we’re not human beings and the rules of electrocution should be back and—it was horrible. And fuck, it felt so bad and—for a moment I thought of you and your family and how they took it when you came out.”

Zayn covered Niall’s hand with the one with a cast. Niall finally stopped fidgeting with the loose string and slumped back onto the wall, a stark reminder of Zayn’s horrible coming out, of the hurt people were capable of inflicting when they did not understand what was going on and wanted to fix you to be better.

“I thought I was proud to be gay,” said Niall, and slowly inhaled. “I thought I was comfortable with _this_ ,” he made a vague gesture at the both of them, “but what if I’m not? What if I’m not fully comfortable being gay?”

“I’m not.”

Niall blinked in surprise. Zayn lightly shrugged his left shoulder. “What do you mean?” Niall asked. “You aren’t…?”

“It’s not that I’m not happy it’s just… this is new to me. Completely. All of it. And on top of it all, my family hates me, I’m growing to dislike London itself, people at RCA are looking at me differently since the MTV awards, whenever I walk down the street I feel eyes all over me…”

“You’re Niaz Kilam, of course eyes are on you,” said Niall with a smile, attempting at a joke, but it fell flat.

“It’s not that and you know it. And then you,” he said as he concentrated hard on Batman. “I can’t seem to make you happy at all and I feel like I’m failing as a boy—” Niall reached forward and wrapped him in a warm embrace. Zayn stilled in his boyfriend’s embrace then melted into him. “… friend. Boyfriend.”

Niall grinned. “You make me the happiest.”

“No, I don’t. We don’t have sex.”

Niall pulled away and looked into his whiskey-coloured eyes. He lightly kissed him on his collarbone with Arabic writing, then pressed feather kisses to his lips. “I am happy. Very. You make me happy and smile and I’m the one who's an idiot. I—I was selfish about sex between us, I wanted it and didn’t think about you. You have so much shit from your family and I’m piling it on and I wasn’t thinking and for that, I’m truly sorry. It’s often said I live in my own head,” he added, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Wanker,” chuckled Zayn.

“If you could go back in time, would you do all this differently?” he asked, his hand on Zayn’s thigh.

“Dating you?” questioned Zayn and Batman quacked. Zayn dipped his hand in the bath and Batman happily ducked his head underneath the water. “No.”

“Your life would be easier.” _Without me_ was not uttered but Zayn heard it.

“So would yours,” he countered and Niall levelled him with a look. “But—no, I wouldn’t because why should anything change because I like the same sex now? Why should the sex of whoever makes me happy make _me_ different?”

“That’s how the world works.”

“You give me a million reasons, Niall, to be proud to be gay. And I am, well, not hundred percent but getting there. We both are,” he added holding Niall’s wavering blue eyes. He placed his finger underneath Niall’s soft chin and pulled him in for a firm kiss.

“Should we set a date for when we have sex?”

Zayn groaned loudly, so loud Batman stopped paddling and blinked her black eyes at him. “We had the sex talk in the morning,” Zayn reminded him. “And there’s nothing sexy about planning a sex… date.”

“There is,” Niall chirped in. “You countdown to the day, the anticipation is lovely and your entire body—is fucking ready for it.”

Zayn rolled his eyes and, using two fingers, he stroked down the duck’s long neck. “My penis is going to fall off, Batman. Mark my words. Fall. Right. Off.”

“You’re such a prick,” laughed Niall. They both shared twinkling smiles and Niall was the first to look away, his cheeks burning the same colour as the nail polish he had bought.

“I’ll be in London next week Wednesday.”

“Thought you didn’t like the city?”

“I’m having lunch with my mom, Doniya and Jawaad,” said Zayn. “My father will be travelling to Liverpool with my Uncles so that gives my mom leeway to come visit.”

Outrageous was what it was for Zayn to see his family just because he was gay now. Honestly, it pissed him off but at the end of the day, family was family and he would have to quench his anger or he might find himself waving a bat at Yaser’s head for what he was doing to his son.

“How long will you be in London?”

“Two days before I meet with my lawyer,” said Zayn. “So the next day…?”

Niall nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

“Never done this before,” admitted Zayn, shy.

Niall kissed him on his jaw. “Me neither.”

**~~*~~**

“You’re going to have to sit perfectly still if you want this to be perfect.”

“But the colour is shitty bland.”

“No boyfriend of mine is basic.”

“No one has _white_ nail polish.”

“ _Black_ and white.”

Niall groaned loudly, purposefully loud and let his head fall back against the couch. After the bathroom incident, Batman successfully climbed out of the bathtub, much to Niall’s astonishment, and padded in circles on the towel Zayn lay and happily padded out of the bathroom. Niall wondered if it was safe for her to be walking around the apartment but Zayn said it was fine and besides, they had other pressing matters on hand such as nail polishes.

Zayn never did like red nail polish on his ex-girlfriends (or sisters) and he was not about to start now. With access to his gender-fluid neighbours apartment (“You can’t just enter whenever you feel like you ass!” “They gave me their key and said I was welcome anytime.”), they made their way to the bathroom where they had an impressive collection of tiny nail polish bottles all arranged in the colour order of… something something… Niall did not understand Zayn’s winding explanation. As he was looking at the various colours, he was wondering how close his boyfriend was with the next door neighbour. Close enough to borrow nail polish bottles, apparently.

“How about orange?” Niall suggested, his hand waving to his left where they carried many of the bottles of polish for Niall to choose from.

“You’re mad is what you are!”

“You have orange hair,” Niall reasoned. “If I have orange nail polish then it’ll be like we’re matching.”

Zayn briefly pinched the bridge of his nose before he settled the bottle white nail polish to his right. “For what it’s worth, Habibi, I don’t care if you suddenly want to do your nails.”

“You don’t?” asked Niall, doubtful. “It’s—so gay and weird and odd and—”

“You were weird way before this nail polish thing but,” he took Niall’s right hand with his cast hand and gripped it with the tips of his fingers, “you shouldn’t let other people’s opinion define you. If you want to strut with nail polish, you do that because it’s who you are.”

Niall visibly relaxed. He had not realized how tense he had been over the supermarket incident and also what Zayn thought of him because of it _and_ for wanting to apply nail polish like a girl. He reprimanded himself for that – anyone could apply nail polish if they wanted just the same as males wanting to wear skirts and females wanting to wear sagging jeans.

“Thank you,” he said, sincere, and leaned forward to kiss him on his lips. “I appreciate that.”

Zayn chased his lips, humming happily as they kissed. He held a clear nail polish bottle and shook it a little. “As you decide on a colour –that is not red, mind – I’ll start with this.”

“How do you know all about base coats and whatnot?” asked Niall curiously.

“I grew up with sisters, you forget,” smirked Zayn. “Actually, I should file your toenails first then apply the base coat.”

Zayn reached into the pink bag belonging to his neighbours that held all the necessary equipment for filing nails. He took out the nail cutter and cut Niall’s toes in a curvy manner. Niall rested his chin on top of his right knee, eyes travelling down to his foot where it was resting comfortably on Zayn’s ankles.

It was not the New York heat but Zayn’s hand on him that warmed Niall’s foot but he suspected it was more than that that was sending warm goo underneath his Irish skin. It was a sunny (read hot) Saturday afternoon in the city, sure, yet it was also Zayn doing his nails shirtless, it was an afternoon of delicious food, it was being with his boyfriend and the world continuing outside the apartment.

Niall attempted to hide his reddening cheeks behind his knee but this time he felt less embarrassed for how easily he blushed as compared to the first days he and Zayn were becoming friends. With his eyes trailing up Zayn’s right arm filled with tattoos from the radio to the space monkey to the small MSG one to the red lips, it dawned on him that, _oh shit_ , he more than craved Zayn. He had realized this when Zayn disappeared to Belize for Ramadhan but now, now in his swanky apartment, Niall knew for sure that craved him in every single way.

He wanted him in the mornings over breakfast, in the evenings sitting in front of the telly watching dumb reality shows, wanted him when he slept the entire afternoon as Niall wanted to go outside. He wanted him more when he thought Zayn smoked a little too much when he spent a little more time with Malfoy and he felt neglected, or even when he took longer than usual to reply to his messages. He wanted him when he had his arms wrapped around him, wanted him when they had fights when they had a bad days when they would go without talking with each other, wanted him even when none of them saw eye to eye over issues they had been discussing.

Niall wanted him, craved him, plain and simple and for this reason, Niall, astonishment dripping through him, had been falling in love with Zayn for a very long time. Since the beginning, he thought all the while Zayn was filing his toenails.

Shit!

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked his boyfriend, trying to sound casual and not at all as if he just had an epiphany.

Zayn had finished cutting his nails and shaping them, it was time to apply the base coat. “No.”

“You didn’t even think about the question.”

The corner of Zayn’s lip twitched. “That’s because I know the answer. Other foot.”

Niall stretched his leg near Zayn’s thigh as he brought his foot to rest on Zayn’s ankles.

“Why not?” inquired Niall. He watched Zayn’s brows bunch in thought as he shook the bottle of nail polish. “I mean, don’t you believe in seeing someone and feeling that connection? That spark?”

Zayn snorted. “That sounds like you’ve been watching far too many romcoms.” He applied the first coat on his big toe. “And I don’t believe in the first spark.” He looked up at Niall. “Do you believe in it?”

“Course.”

“Of course,” Zayn rolled his eyes at Niall’s foot, “you big sap. Have you ever even felt that spark in your life?”

“Holly,” he answered promptly. Zayn briefly gazed at him before resuming to apply polish on his toes. “She was my first—everything. Love, sex, relationship, the lot. Everything about love I learned from her.”

“And heartbreak,” added Zayn. “And no one else after that?”

“I haven’t gotten close to anyone enough for me to fall for them—but that’s not to say I didn’t feel a connection with them.”

“Really? Who?”

“No one in particular,” he said, vaguely, which Zayn caught on but said nothing. Truth be told, he was thinking of Will Jardell, the man that taught him all about himself on being gay and being proud of it.

“Are you scared of falling?” asked Zayn tentatively. Niall could see his jaw tense and his handshake slightly and for some reason, was scared of the answer.

“I don’t take heartbreaks very well,” he confessed. He switched his foot on Zayn’s ankles. “I’m the worst with them; I’m either very angry or very sad, nothing in between.”

“That’s all part of being in love with someone.”

“Have you ever fallen so hard for someone?” inquired Niall. Perhaps an odd question but anything to keep the nagging feeling that was eating him slow and sudden over knowing he has been falling for Zayn since the beginning.

“I think there is something about firsts that make them memorable. Her name was Sabriyya and she had had a wicked sense of humour. I was sort of a loner in school and for a weird reason, she liked that about me. So we became friends and dated, and I don’t know—it was great?”

“Are you asking?” he chuckled.

Zayn down looked at his toes, smiling. “Nah. But I had been wondering if I truly liked her or was it because my parents liked her so I automatically did?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she was a Muslim and my parents had said I should marry a good, Muslim girl,” explained Zayn. “She wore an Al-Amira, read the Qu’ran several times, she often came to our place for lunch – at times with her family – and we were all very close.”

“What’s an Al-Amira?”

“It’s a headscarf worn by Muslim women. Underneath is a fitting cap that covers a little bit of your forehead and on top of it you add a tube-like scarf. Sort of like the hijab but different.”

Niall nodded in understanding. “So what happened?”

“We wanted different things.”

If that was not one of the vaguest phrases said on this Earth! Niall let it slide, seeing as Zayn was gripping his toe a little more and instead asked him what type of student he was in high school.

“Loner.”

“There’s more to you than that.”

“Quirky, I guess. That’s what people called me. I kept myself to myself and people labelled me as the ‘Quiet Muslim’ which was alright for a while but after it bothered me because, well, I was a Muslim. It didn’t help matters when I brought a gun to school.”

Niall’s eyes popped to the floor. “You brought a gun to school? What for?”

“Shoot up the place,” Zayn said with the most straight face that Niall thought he was serious for a second before Zayn was bending over and laughing. “You should see your face! Oh, priceless!”

“Shut up, you prick,” muttered Niall. “Why did you bring a gun anyway?”

Zayn shrugged. “ _Water_ gun. I don’t know. Felt like it. I thought it was funny but clearly, it wasn’t.” Zayn briefly chuckled. “How about you? I bet my bottom dollar bill you were the noisy one. The one that had the crowd following.”

Niall’s face was smug. “People did follow me.”

“People also followed Hitler.”

“Cunt.” Niall watched him apply his middle toe with the clear polish. “I wouldn’t say I was popular but I always found myself surrounded by loads of people that I was never alone.”

“Didn’t it bother you?”

Niall shook his head. “I loved it. The company of people, having a right laugh, just—I can’t imagine for once being quiet. Reason why you’d never find me in a library, it’s too quiet.”

“I loved the library,” gleed Zayn, closing the nail polish bottle. “I probably spent a majority of my high school there, and the Drama club.”

“Do you think we’d have been friends if we both went to the same high school?” asked Niall, spontaneously.

As he watched Zayn slowly gaze up at him he knew the answer. Worlds apart, they were. They differed on different levels from music, to food, to activities. Zayn was a night owl, he was a sunrise. He was left-handed and Zayn was right-handed. He believed in the stars and myths while Zayn believed in Allah. He was, for the most part, indecisive while Zayn was sure from the get-go. He was a dreamer, Zayn a realist. He was logical while Zayn was artistic and on and on it went, that it bothered him _how_ different they both were. For crying out loud, he was in Slytherin and Zayn in Ravenclaw.

But for some reason, him believing in Fate and Destiny, they wounded up in Wembley Stadium, in One Direction despite everything going the other direction.

“No.”

It was one thing to think, the other was having your thoughts confirmed and it sucked that Zayn thought it too, even if his brain wholeheartedly agreed.

“Did you pick a colour?” asked Zayn and Niall blinked into focus.

“You pick.”

“Did I upset you?” he asked him, his hand running up and down his calf. “Was it because I said, No’?”

“I knew that it’s just.” He shrugged, attempting at nonchalance but failing with his face saying he was, in fact, bothered. “I don’t know, upsetting to have it confirmed.”

“If we hadn’t met at X Factor, we would have still met. Trust.”

“That’s what Tricia said,” he smiled at Zayn. And Zayn gave him the biggest smile with two rows of teeth on display. “But you’re still picking a colour.”

Zayn picked the black and white nail polish bottles, waved them in his face for confirmation, and once received, went about applying it to his feet.

“There are these videos on Youtube,” began Niall, uncertain, “about you and Liam…” He paused, waiting to Zayn to comment, on what he does not know because really, he has not said anything. Zayn simply raised an eyebrow and continued the task at hand… er, foot. “The videos are… you and Liam a little…” He sighed, feeling defeated. “They showed the sexual tension between you both.”

Zayn laughed under his breath, applying a thick coat of white nail polish.

“S’not funny. The videos are quite convincing.”

“As much as the Larry videos?”

“Those are different. The one with you and Liam, dubbed Ziam, are quite… sexy.”

“Are you, my own boyfriend, calling me on sex with another man?” asked Zayn, amused.

Niall rolled his eyes. “No, you wanker. It’s just—if you see the videos you can tell that the both of you fucked around like rabbits after the concert.”

“Unlike the Larry videos?” challenged Zayn, coolly applying another coat of polish.

“Those videos were different because you could see how Harry looked at Louis like he hung the moon and stars and… meteors, whatever. _Ziam_ looked at each other as if you were picturing each other naked and eye—”

“Okay, Niall, stop, this is getting weird for me,” Zayn said, stopping Niall mid-sentence. “One, this is getting uncomfortable. Two, Liam and I never fucked. Three, it was purely flirti—”

“So you two had sex?” he inquired, leaning forward. “I mean, if you didn’t fuck then it was sex? Or made love?”

“No. It was just flirting with us. And I told you before, we only kissed once.”

This whole thing was still bugging Niall and he could not let it go even if Zayn was giving him the look of _Let it go, Niall_. “Would you fuck him given the chance?”

Zayn shut his eyes, breathing out between his parted lips. He closed the white nail polish bottle – having finished with his left foot –  and set it near Niall’s knee. “Where’s this coming from, Niall? Really?”

Niall absently shrugged, resting his chin on his drawn up knee. “Dunno.”

“I never felt anything for Liam, sexually or romantically, it was all harmless flirting,” he said, his full attention on the blushing Niall. “There’s a difference between fucking, sex and making love, clearly. What you saw in the videos was fucking and, since we’ve had the sex talk already, I might as well say something; I don’t like fucking.”

Niall raised both his eyebrows in surprise.

“It’s—I loved it because I was a horny teen and wanted to get off STAT,” he found himself saying and Niall’s eyebrows were glued to his brown hairline. “Didn’t want the attachment and all. Then there’s sex which, if I’m being honest, was too much work I just wanted to fuck. But when you’re in a relationship, it’s less about fucking and more about sex but I didn’t feel a fucking difference—I felt cheated. Then there’s making love, where you both connect on a deeper, spiritual sphere it’s—pure bliss. The best high.”

Niall’s mouth was agape when Zayn had finished and was looking at him expectantly. He was at a loss for words, really, and he had many questions like who was the one he was intimate with and felt cheated? Who was it he made love with? Who did he fuck? _Liam?_ His mind chastised him because really, Zayn had denied it so many times.

And also, he did not think he had ever made love to anyone. Never had the “deeper, spiritual sphere” connection with anyone. His heart sank to his stomach. Or rather, his heart was in green flames. Zayn had connected with someone _else_ in such a way he has never felt and—how was he to start? What do people do when making love? No one had been caring for him, sensual with him, to touch, not just his body, but his heart, his soul, his being.

“Niall,” Zayn gently holds his hand, kissing his knuckles, “what is it?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, his head ducked down in shame. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Nothing you say I’d ever find embarrassing.”

“Promise?” he asked, voice raw and vulnerable. Zayn kissed all four knuckles in response. “I’ve never made love to anyone.” A beat passed between them. Niall’s eyes were terrified, gazing into Zayn’s calm and warm and inviting honey ones that he found himself blabbering. “It’s not that I—It’s just everyone I’ve been—Sex is what we’ve always done, with everyone. Most of the time it’s fucking, sure, and well, I get it, really, but sometimes when—I don’t know, I wanted—It got to the point where I wasn’t even present when I was having sex with whomever. It’s like my mind shut off. I came but it’s like… I wasn’t there?” He scratched his chin with his free hand nervously. “It was muscle memory at that point and sometimes I wish that I felt something more.”

Zayn locked their eyes for a minute, before he was on his knees, leaning forward. His hand were planted flat by Niall’s hips, the other on the couch where he pressed his arm onto for support, and he licked his lips, Niall following the movement with bated breath. Zayn brushed his lips ever so lightly on Niall’s, pressed his lips to his, parting them with his own and kissing Niall’s bottom lip.

Niall’s eyes fluttered shut, his eyes weaving up Zayn’s naked inked arms to rest on his unshaven jawline. The kiss was slow, sensual as if Zayn had all the time in the world to kiss him. Niall had never been kissed like this before, no sir, it was always fast or messy or short or too hot but not now and he was losing his balance.

This was… something else. He let Zayn take the lead, his entire body putty underneath the attention from Zayn. He wanted nothing more than to fist his fingers in Zayn’s hair, tug hard, and lick his mouth clean which Zayn could sense because he broke their lips apart.

“Slow, Habibi,” he murmured, hot breath ghosting Niall’s swollen lips.

He let Zayn take the lead, marvelling at Zayn kissing him, sensual, slow, and it felt good. He felt warm, as Zayn’s tongue brushed his bottom lip, felt safe here as Zayn zealously kissed him passionately, felt so right as their tongues tangled in a slow dance and the thing was he did not tire. He would never get tired of kissing Zayn.

He chased Zayn’s lips, his hands holding Zayn’s face tighter and he let him, Niall kissing the smile on his addicting lips.

 _Fuck_ , he cursed inwardly, he was gone for Zayn. So, so, _so_ gone.

“I’ve never been kissed like that before,” he breathed. Zayn’s eyes softened, crinkles by their edges. He watched them closely, lips pressing against his, barely there but Niall could feel them to the tips of his fingers and toes.

As Zayn finished applying black paint to his other foot, Niall had his head buried in his knee, too embarrassed to show Zayn his red-hot cheeks and his half-hard cock underneath his shorts. Zayn cheekily chuckled at him, even when Niall showed him the finger.  


**~                 ~             *           ~              ~**  


“Don’t forget at eleven-thirty is when the MET museum opens and trust me, you don’t want a queue,” said Zayn. He drew his curtains, letting the moonlight shining over New York City into his bedroom.

Niall, scrolling down his Instagram feed, snorted. “Because I’m the one who wakes up in the afternoon.”

“That’s why I told you, you Irish ass, because you’ll wake up before me.”

Zayn got into bed, settling nicely in between the sheets and Niall locked his phone, stretched his hand, and placed it on the bedside table. He pulled the sheets on his hips as he rolled on his pillow to face Zayn who was already gazing at him.

He reached across and brushed his knuckles along the side of Niall’s face, and Niall could do nothing but push his face into the pillow, the corners of his lips tugging up.

“You called me cheesy but you’re the fucking cheese ball.”

“You’ve watched probably every romantic movie out there,” said Zayn, his knuckles brushing the side of his face, still. “You’re the cheese in this relationship.”

“Says the one who basically took care of me this whole day,” murmured Niall, half muffled with his face hiding in the pillow. “You’ve got to cook me chicken tikka again.”

“Anytime you want,” Zayn said and it sounded like a promise. He shuffled closer to Niall, the hand with his cast resting on Niall’s nipple, the air around warm and comfy that he did not mind that it was _hot_ outside his window. His eyelashes gently resting on his to-die-for cheekbones, he said, “Tell me something.”

“What?” he breathed. How was he lying in bed with his gorgeous boyfriend and he was feeling breathless? Honestly? Zayn was literally lying next to him, their ankles tangled and feeling the hard cast of his cast pressed to his chest, and Niall’s lung was struggling to get _in_ oxygen.

“Anything.”

Niall pressed his thumb down his stubble, loving the feel of it underneath his pad. “When I was I was younger I set goals for myself, you know, the usual of career, house, kids, climb Mt Everest, married, whatever.”

“What were they?”

“I’d be a footballer in Liverpool Football Club, my second choice Real Madrid, my third Paris St Germaine, my fourth—m”

Zayn popped one eye. “Alright, alright, so you had plenty of choices,” he said, humour in his voice. “Moving _on_.”

“My last, and fourth choice, is Derby. And to always make it to the Irish national team for the World Cup,” finished Niall, quickly before he cut him off. “I’d play for like years and years until people would be wondering, ‘Why is he not retiring?’ I pictured myself to be huge, the best striker out there, like Neymar, Agüero, Lewandowski, Suarez—”

“Isn’t he the one who bit someone at some point?”

Niall grunted into the pillow. “I swear that’s all he’s known for. He’s a fantastic striker and know what’s more? Whatever team is playing against _his_ team, is going to work so hard because it’s a nightmare to defend.”

“What does he play for?”

“Barcelona. Still don’t get why he left Liverpool. He was ace!”

“So you wanted to be in the same League as them?” asked Zayn, popping one eye open and closing it.

“Yeah… until I fucked my knee and my doctors said if I continued with football I’d be in a wheelchair for life faster than I could say Bayern Munich.”

“Bayern Munich?”

“That was my Doctor’s favourite team,” Niall chuckled, the memory of him as a nine-year-old in Mullingar National Hospital talking to Dr Cham. “That was my first dream and my only proper dream.”

Zayn opened his eyes, them searching Niall’s. “What do you mean, only proper dream?”

“I mean, football was my it dream. Like, _when_ , not if, I became a footballer my life was set. That was it. Life goal, done and done. Anything else was secondary, in the background.” Zayn’s hand, which was pressed to his stomach, reached across the small warm space and squeezed his hip. “I’m fine, I had years to make peace with that. But that’s the difference between me and you, Snookums.”

“How?” he asked his boyfriend, curiously.

“You can still be a vet, even now, in three years, five, tomorrow, unlike me who, even if I wanted, I’d hurt myself even further,” he told him. He curved his arm around Zayn’s neck, carding his fingers in his orange, silky hair. “I want you to send an application because you don’t know if-if you never… start.”

Zayn held his gaze before he fluttered his eyes shut and parted his lips, warm breath on Niall’s chin.

“How about just sending an application? Nothing else. I just—I want you to try and not to sound overly cliché but you never know if you never try.”

“You’re right.”

Niall grinned. “Really?”

“It _is_ cliché.” Niall flicked him on his throat. “Careful, you prick.” Niall poked him once on his Capricorn symbol tattoo, then repeatedly poked him until Zayn was forced to open his eyes and faintly defend his chest area from more pokes. “If I say yes will you stop poking me?”

“I don’t know...” he said as he continuously poked his upper chest.

“You’re such a twat,” he said without heat and there was a growing smile on both their lips. “Okay, okay, I will apply for veterinary medicine now stop poking me.”

“I really times six like you.”

Zayn snuggled closer, closer until he was cocooned in Niall’s milky arms.

“I really times six like you, too, Habibi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! my attempt at them catching up and spending off days together because so far it's been a bumpy ride and a little 'us time' was much awaited \=   
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly welcomed ☺ all positive or negative, either is fine [=
> 
> take care sons !! ♦


	31. Slow, Slow Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall treasures his boyfriend, dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the songs listed in the chapter are:  
> Slow Hands - by his truly  
> Treat You Better - Shawn Mendes  
> Carolina - Harry Styles [changed the title to Texas]
> 
> enJOY ☻

_**I just can’t wait to see it all** _  
_**I’m so turned on** _  
_**And it’s all mine** _  
_**I just want to watch you when you take it off** _  
_**~ ZAYN** _

__

Niall was a hopeless romantic, he knew that. Eleanor knew that. His family knew that. The entire world knew that. And not forgetting he was a walking and talking cliché – probably something he ought to work on but for now, he loved it.

After flying back to London, day in, day out, he spent it watching romcoms; all sorts this time, without discrimination, waiting for the sex scenes to play out. He would write down on his yellow notepad – Eleanor looking on curiously – the setup of the room in the movie where the two couples would engage in coitus (“ _Sex_. It’s sex, you creep!” Eleanor told him when he had written ‘Coitus Scenes’ as a heading on his large notepad). In said sex scenes, some had petals, others champagne, others large, large chandeliers, he was worried it would fall on them in the middle of their intimacy.

Location, location, location was just as important as the setting. Unfortunately for Niall in this moment, there were no such scenes in the Harry Potter sagas, so he could not rely on location for The Coitus (after his fifth movie, he dubbed the whole event The Coitus on his notepad). He watched movie after movie and he had a couple of The Coitus locations which ranged from a house to backseat of cars to swanky hotels to weird choices such as abandoned houses or even in a park. Niall shivered. He was not up for _that_ choice.

In the end, he settled on a hotel which, was a good choice, safe, neutral, but the issue came… which hotel?

“You’re overthinking this,” Eleanor had told him. “Pretty sure Malik won’t care which hotel you choose to deflower him.”

“I’m not de—” He stopped, and gasped. “Oh crap! He’s never had sex with a guy.” His eyes bulged. “I’m going to be his first. _Holy fuckballs_!”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. He didn’t have feelings for Liam,” he told him. Eleanor raised an eyebrow at him and her lips twisted into a knowing smile.

“I didn’t ask but thanks for the info.”

He settled on a hotel thereafter – The Dorchester – for The Night. Also, according to the movies he had been binge-watching, the sex scene always took place at night. For some reason. Perhaps there was something about the stars and the moon and cuddling up with the one you love after a lovely night… or some rainbow-vomit shit like that, Eleanor echoed through his thoughts when he had voiced as to why the night was more important.

As for the Presidential Suite (Niall slept in style, always), he thought he did his best. First was getting a PS with a large, large hanging chandelier. Two was the walls which, well, there was not much he could do so he opted for the floor, oh the floor. He bought sunflowers, bunches and bunches and bunches of them, and littered the floor with yellow petals, not forgetting the corners of the large bedroom which people tended to forget. Then, he added gold and silver glitter, because glitter made people happy and who did not like glitter? It was not enough for Niall, so he added hi-ball candles that smelt as close to mint as possible – Zayn’s favourite smell. He spread the green candles across the room and once lit, Niall could admit that almost-mint candles smelled good.

The bed. In the middle of it was a grey bucket of chilling champagne that they could be drinking the stars after making love to one another (or so how went Niall’s fantasy) with tall, glitter-rimmed flutes of champagne with a green and blue ribbon tied at the base. The bucket was surrounded by a love heart made of randomly chosen flowers just because. He was a random one, after all.

Music was a challenge to Niall. He did have an idea of what to play but all his song choices were not made for the bedroom but for candle-lit dinners or a sunset walk along the beach scenes. They ranged from Ed Sheeran to John Legend to here and there artists that he did not know _when_ it was appropriate to play them – before they took off their clothes, or after, or… not at all?

Niall pulled at his hair. He was overthinking this. He thought of what Zayn would like to hear and the first person that came to mind was Frank Ocean. Except, none of his songs were ‘romantic’, none he could find himself making love to (more like getting faded _after_ making love) and so he went down the list of Zayn’s favourite artists (all either Hip-Hop or R &B) and settled on The Weeknd. Zayn liked him well enough, once or twice mentioning how sick it would be to do a collab with him, and even recommending a couple of songs for Niall. He played _Earned It_ , testing the sound of it and—

There was the doorbell to the hotel. He looked at his wristwatch with wide eyes and cursed. It was minutes to five o’clock, the sun high in the sky, and Zayn was damn early (for once!). He rushed out of the room, forgetting to turn off the music system playing, closed the door, and headed for the main door.

“Hey Snookums,” he greeted and kissed him soundly. Zayn smiled on his lips, hands around Niall’s flush neck.

“I missed you,” he murmured. Niall stepped back for Zayn to step into the Suite. He was wearing nothing but black (what surprise!) but his jeans were ripped on his thighs and Niall’s breath caught. The one time he wore those jeans was in New York and Niall spent a considerable amount of time with his fingers in between the ripped spaces and raking his finger over his fuzzy skin. Did – he started – did Zayn wear the jeans just for him?

“Is that The Weeknd?” inquired Zayn. Niall blinked and saw that he was not just in black but he had at tribal monkey bag, adding some colour to his outfit.

“Yeah. He’s pretty cool,” he said, walking to where Zayn was, bending to pick a black cloth from the table. “I want to show you something but I need to blindfold you.”

Zayn simply raised an eyebrow then closed his eyes. Niall’s shaky hands reached over and tied the black cloth over his eyes, and tied a knot on the back of Zayn’s head. As he was tying the knot, his eyes trailed down the length of his nose, his growing moustache and his parted mouth, his pink, lush lips. His lips ghosted to his, making sure the knot was tight, and kissed him, hard.

“Is that the surprise?” asked Zayn, his hands strong on Niall’s hips. Niall nervously laughed, saying, _no, that’s not it_ , and holding Zayn’s hand and tugging him forward, leading him to the bedroom, the voice of The Weeknd growing louder and louder.

As the cloth fell off his eyes, Zayn blinked slowly into the light and, immediately, his jaw fell. His eyes did not know where to look at first; the green hi-ball candles, the fairy lights illuminating around the four-poster bed, the enormous, sparkling chandelier, the sun shining warmly through the white curtains, The Weeknd, and the bloody sunflowers all over the floor and…

“Is that glitter?” he asked, turning around to a Niall standing nervously behind him. “Where did you get glitter?”

Niall stuck out his tongue. “Shop.”

Zayn turned back to the enormous room, his eyes going over to the bed where the assortment of random flowers of orange, blue, pink, white and violet screamed Niall just because. He was floored by it all, really, that his hand searched for Niall and gripped it tightly, hoping what he was feeling was being translated.

“Do you like it?”

Or maybe he needed to use his words.

“Like it?” he breathed. “I love it, Habibi, all of it. It’s…” he shook his head, words not enough to describe.

“Hope it’s not _too_ cheesy,” mumbled Niall. He leaned gently to his side, snaking his arm on the small of his back.

“It’s cheesy, you can’t deny, but I love all of it, especially the sunflowers on the bed. They scream you.” Niall grinned bit his lip from grinning so much when Zayn suddenly embraced him, peppering his neck with lots and lots of kisses that hand him laughing and squirming in Zayn’s arms.

And it got awkward and clunky after. They were seated on the bed, side by side, Zayn’s colourful bag on the floor by the bed and _So I’ma care for you, you, you_ fill the silence stretching between them. Niall was picking at the skin by his thumbnail, switching between his teeth and nails while Zayn had his hands underneath his thigh, previously had them tapping against the side of his thighs anxiously.

“I like the choice of candles.”

Niall paused the biting of the hanging skin on the corner of his thumbnail. “You’ve mentioned it.”

Zayn quickly glanced to Niall then at a burning candle on the floor by several yellow petals. “Right.”

This was _not_ how Niall had pictured in his head, not even in his weirdest fantasies of The Night, of The Coitus, did he have _this_ in mind. By now they should have had their bodies tangled between the white sheets on the bed, laughing heartedly, sipping champagne and jazz playing in the back—

Oh dear, should he have played Jazz instead? Belatedly, he realised why _Earned It_ sounded familiar. It was one of the soundtracks for — Niall could almost faint — _Fifty Shades of Grey_. He wanted nothing but to stop the music from playing, stop The Weeknd from sensually singing _‘Cause, girl, you earned it, Shit, Girl, you earned it, Yeah_ and that was not what he wanted this night to be about, not about Red Rooms, not about sex positions requiring him to stretch in unimaginable ways nor exotic sex positions taken straight out of Kama Sutra or someplace

Except but he could not change the song – that would require him to stop nervously biting off his skin which he was happy to continue doing – because he was half panicking and half glancing wondering what should he do? Where should his hands go? For fuck’s sake, he had had sex before so why the bloody fuck was this so hard?

“You took off your cast?” he asked conversationally.

Zayn lifted his left hand, looking at it as if forgetting he had on a cast just a few days ago. “Yeah, oh yeah. Dr Line said it was cool to take it off but I shouldn’t exert too much pressure on the hand.”

“Sick,” Niall commented, his eyes on the white bandage around his left hand. They fell into silence again, The Weeknd taunting him with _You’re my favourite kind of night_.

“I think it’s going to rain today,” he spoke once more, just to fill the silence, and Zayn slowly looked at him, hands firmly underneath his ripped jeans. “Cats and dogs, it said.”

Was he talking about the weather now?

 _Step up your game,_ his inner voice screamed inside his brain. “Did you know that 60 percent of men have erect nipples when aroused?” he asked, in a Did-You-Know manner. His inside groaned in second-hand embarrassment.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Funny, huh?”

“Hilarious.” Zayn’s voice was flat, he could hear it, Niall could, too, even if The Weeknd was harmonizing perfectly. “I bought.” He punctured his sentence, bending over and grabbing his tribal patterned bag. He fished for something, Niall looking on curiously, finally giving his fingers a rest. His eyes widened in surprise at the many, small bottles of lube he spread on top of the bed. “The lady—um. So I went out to buy lube, thought we might need some… this video I watched said so. Anyway, the lady said which flavour I wanted to see as there were many and to be honest, I thought there was only one.”

Niall had two in his hands already – a vanilla on one hand and mango on the other, looking up at Zayn in surprise. “You went out and bought all this lube?”

“I.” He cleared his throat, tapping on the side of his thigh with the hand wrapped in a white sling. “The lady said the same thing but I didn’t know which flavour you wanted so I bought all of them.” Niall picked up a lemon one and turned it between his fingers. “I figured you’d like that—or something. I don’t know.”

“I love them,” he assured him, looking through the other flavours which had him smiling softly. “I’d honestly have loved to have seen you buying them.”

“I was already mortified when the lady kept hovering behind me as I was choosing. I don’t think I’ve ever been nervous buying condoms either,” he added, voice cracking in the middle, he was jittery and a nervy bee, Niall feeling the same way.

“Same here,” he told him locking eyes, “My entire face was red when I was at the till.”

They fell into silence once more, and his eyes flickered of the clock by the lamp, it read 5:57 P.M. They have been here for close to an hour and _nothing much_ has been happening. He did not get it, Niall, he was good at this, good at sex, at knowing what to do, always, but here he was, a nervous, biting-his-nails creature and blurting random things that, well, were not sexy… like in the movies he binged watched.

“Do you want to start?” he asked.

Like he said, _not_ sexy.

“Sure,” Zayn agreed easily and Niall was utterly grateful. If he could hear the shaky voice, Zayn did not mention it.

They both got to it, with them removing their shoes, the champagne off the bed  (“We can drink it after,” suggested Niall and Zayn nodded, worrying his bottom lip), blowing the random collection of flowers off the bed as no one wanted flowers in their arse crack, and Zayn chewing happily on the small chocolates laid on the pillows as Niall was arranging the condoms and lube on the bed, once again.

“The chocolates are a nice touch,” he told him, chewing. He leaned forward to meet Niall’s lips before taking another bite chocolate. They were sat in the middle of the bed, Zayn sat like a pretzel and Niall’s legs stretching around Zayn’s jean-clad legs.

“Which one?”

“I think it should be spontaneous, like an in-the-moment pick,” suggested Zayn. Niall nodded in agreement and set aside the two items in two separate piles. Zayn swallowed the rest of his chocolate, managing to eat six out of the ten small chocolates in record time.

“This is it huh?”

“Do we countdown? No, that’ll sound weird,” he answered his own question and Niall giggled at him, finding it endearing. “Stop laughing,” he ducked his head, spinning the Deadpool ring around his index finger, “I’m nervous.”

“Me too,” he breathed and it felt good to know Zayn felt the same way. “Ready, Set, Go!”

Zayn buried his head in his hands. “This isn’t a race, Niall.”

“Some say coitus—”

“Coitus?”

“That’s what it’s—”

Zayn fondly rolled his eyes at him but that was not what stopped Niall mid-sentence. It was Zayn removing the hair tye from his topknot hairstyle and tying the hair tye on his right wrist. It should not have been a cat-got-your-tongue moment but for Niall, it was because Zayn was undeniably magnificent taking off a hair tye. A bloody red hair tye. Shit, Niall was fucked.

Zayn crawled over to him, Niall still on the bed, and sat on his lap, his hands on Niall’s shoulders to support himself. His hands reached up and curled around the nape of Niall’s neck, a shiver running down his spine. He pushed his fingers into his brown hair, their gaze steady, lightly scratching.

“You’re golden,” he said but it was said in a whisper, a promise. “So golden, Habibi.”

Niall had never been called ‘golden’ before and he was finding himself liking it by the second. His eyes fluttered softly shut when Zayn kissed him and he felt everything come to a standstill. Zayn brushed his lips on Niall’s again, and kissed him, harder than before, and Niall’s nerves hummed, sang dumb love songs as Zayn’s tongue licked his mouth.

Zayn gently pushed Niall back onto the bed, their lips locked. His hands left Niall’s flush face and found Niall’s fingers digging into his bare hips. Lips locked on his boyfriend, he intertwined them and pinned them above Niall’s head and for some reason, Niall hoped his armpits did not smell.

 _Too bad_ , his inner voice added.

Niall found himself falling in the sensation of Zayn, Zayn, Zayn around him, on him, wrapped around him he was afraid his body would melt underneath Zayn and, well, that would be the end. His lips missed the heat of Zayn’s mouth who was kissing down his jaw, switching between softly nibbling and pressing his lips to it.

“You removed your tongue ring?” he asked, the memory sudden.

“Yeah.” His lips brushed down his neck, warm breath leaving a trail behind. “Do you miss it?”

“Terribly,” Niall mumbled and it came out breathless as Zayn was licking and lapping his earlobe

“I’ll have my tongue pierced again for you.”

“You don’t,” he gasped the word as Zayn sunk his teeth into his skin, “have to if you don’t want to. I love your tongue either way.”

Zayn’s smiled into his neck. He straddled Niall, releasing the grip on his wrists, with his thighs pressing to his middle. He held Niall’s curious gaze before taking off his black shirt with a grey breast pocket and threw it on the edge of the bed. Niall’s eyes drank him in as his eyes travelled down Zayn’s toned torso, the lovely tattoos dusting his chest, the defined abs his fingers running down them, drooling at the feel of them, the dark happy trail disappearing past his underwear, his fingers trailing down Zayn’s zipper as he lifted his gaze to meet Zayn’s and the smirk playing on his lips.

“You.”

And Niall had never taken off his shirt faster than this afternoon. Zayn’s eyes hungrily raked down his body, the tip of his middle finger trailing down the middle, poking his belly button eliciting a laugh from the Irish, and down to his happy trail.

“I swear you never wear any other colour of underwear apart from white,” mentioned Zayn, middle finger running on the waistband of his white Calvin Klein’s. Niall laughed lowly beneath him. “Or does Calvin Klein not have other colours apart from white?”

“Because” – Niall’s eyes looked at the label of Zayn’s blue waistband, – “Hugo Boss is cooler?”

“They have _colours_ ,” insisted Zayn.

Zayn bent down to kiss Niall’s mouth clean. The Irish lost himself in all of it, lips opening for him easily and tasting all of his boyfriend’s, of Zayn’s tongue sliding into his mouth over and over caressing his own with such power that Niall was a bundle of shivers and moans, lots of them and he was not ashamed of them. Not once. Not even when their bottoms were in a sweaty pile by the bed and Zayn was bucking his hips, his cock pressing against Niall’s thigh.

“The website was right,” said Niall, pressing his thumb over Zayn’s nipple. “Your nipples are erect!”

Zayn threw his tatted arms over his eyes. “Not now, Niall, not now.”

“You’re aroused,” he said, delighted.

“Bed swallow me now. Please.”

Niall laughed above him, throatily, his thumb lazily thumbing his nipple, the little hairs around it. “Your body looks beautiful, did I ever mention that?”

“Many times when you stare quite hard at my tattoos.” Niall smiled idly, his focus on the _Friday?_ tattoo. He found himself running his thumb over the tattoo, left to right, and almost getting lost in the moment. Zayn let him, laying beneath his boyfriend and gazing up at him. “What is it?”

It was on the tip of his tongue, literally the tip, to say those heavy, heavy words. The big three little words. As Niall thought about it was a bit of a juxtaposition, contradiction, whatever the word was, because how can something big be little?

“I like you a lot,” he found himself saying, instead.

“I like you a lot, too.”

Niall frowned, pressing his forehead to his shoulder. How was Niall bad at words? He was a songwriter for crying out loud and here he was stumbling over his words. He breathed out, then in, and out, all the while Zayn patient.

Niall cupped his face in his hands, his stubble a fuzzy feel on his calloused palms. “I’m going to treat you better, Snookums,” he told him, trying to put all the sincerity into his voice, to make Zayn understand when now, _now_ when words decided to fail him. “I’ll treat you better than they did, can, or ever could.”

Zayn’s fingers were in Niall’s hair on the nape of his neck, lightly gripping. “Don’t doubt that.” Niall stared at him deeply, his hands massaging his earlobes with his earrings on, between his fingers. “I trust you, Habibi. Completely.” He gently lowered the both of them, his head on the white pillow, their chests flushed against each other, one filled with art and the other a blank canvas.

“I know we’re both bad at communication but this is the one time we have to be good,” began Niall. “I need to know if it hurts, not that tough guy act, alright?” Niall saw his Adam apple bop along his throat. “Verbal communication.”

“I have faith in you not to, but I will if it hurts.”

So Niall ducked his head and pressed his lips firmly to his chest where the Capricorn ink was bright and big. He nibbled along his collarbone, up his neck, and down, and back to where he started. He bent down, sucking in one of Zayn’s erect nipples, biting lightly and Zayn moaning beneath him. His lips trailed down his torso, tasting his skin between his lips and tongue and oh, oh, when he got to his happy trail, Niall swore he could come undone.

He did not know what it was about Zayn’s dark happy trail but he had a mild fascination for it, a close second to his cock. He lapped his tongue happily over it and Zayn’s hand tightened in his hair. Meanwhile, his hands were massaging the back of his thighs, the hairs on his skin a welcoming touch to his palm. He wanted to kiss every inch and curve of him, not leaving a spot unkissed on Zayn’s gorgeous, unprecedented body because really, he deserved the world, the universe, and the stars that were meant to be in the sky right now, instead he had the sun shining through the window.

And not forgetting The Weeknd on bloody repeat. He had almost forgotten it was still on.

Niall grabbed Zayn’s knees and spread his legs, positioning himself between them. He began by lightly licking the head of Zayn’s hard cock, light feathery licks and his left hand firmly gripping the base. He was really tasting Zayn, that was all, but it was enough for Zayn to dig his fingers into the sheets. See, Niall learned on the fourth, fifth blowjob that they were Zayn’s weakness, absolute weakness, and he went crazy for blowjobs, and it was music to his ears because one, Niall loved giving head, and two, he loved his boyfriend’s cock.

Zayn moaned his name. “Niall!”

From the corner of his eye, Niall could see he had formed a ball of sheets in his hands and he pulled the sheets when Niall flattened his tongue on the underside of his cock and licked from the base to the top. He was leisurely licking him up and down, tasting pre-come on his tongue already and he kept it going.

“Niall, please…”

“What do you want?” he asked, flattening his palm on his trail of hair on his stomach, pre-come leaking onto the back of his hand.

“You know what,” grunted Zayn, then gasped. Niall gripped his cock, firm and strong, but did nothing. Zayn bucked his hips, urging him to do _something_ , anything really, but he was doing nothing but make him wait.

“Verbal communication, Zayn,” he said, tone as innocent as he could make it. His hand was on Zayn’s cock, his thumb swirling on his head, smirking at a watching Zayn get closer to the edge.

“I never do this to you when I suck you off.”

“You’re the biggest tease, you asshat,” said Niall, casually. His thumb pressed against the wet crown of his cock. “Always making me wait for it.”

“Your hand or your mouth, I don’t give a fuck,” grunted Zayn, leaning on his elbows with eyes narrowed at his boyfriend. “Please.”

And Niall gave in. He leaned down, licking his lips and parting them to suck Niall deep. He moaned around his cock when the tip was scratching the back of his throat. Zayn bucked his hips, his cock hitting the back of Niall’s throat again. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked on his cock, his head bopping up and down on it, having Zayn moaning and grunting and writhing beneath him, hands pulling on the soft, white sheets.

It was not that Zayn did not want his hands fisted in Niall’s hair during a blowjob but one time Niall gave it to him good, so good he pulled a couple of hair off that actually hurt and he apologized for days about it. Niall assured him it was fine (honestly, he was feeling smug about it), really, but Zayn shook his head and has never touched his hair since.

Zayn bucked his hips, cock swallowed whole by Niall’s mouth. He looked up, a nice flat view of Zayn’s long middle, a new way of looking at his tats and really, him as a person. With his nose buried in his pubic hair, his tongue swirling and saliva dripping, his fingers made their way down and played with his balls. Zayn’s thighs quivered and pressed to Niall’s face, Zayn moaning his name and uttering a row of _fuckfuckfuck_ and coming into his mouth with a loud grunt.

Zayn’s chest was heaving up and down, a coat of sweat on his chest. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to come?”

Niall came up for air, wiping the come dripping down his chin, his tongue licking everything off his shiny, red lips. “I wanted you to relax.”

“But I’m relaxed.”

Niall was now towering him. “For this, I need you to relax and judging from past experience, this was the best way I could think of to relax you.”

Zayn gazed at him for a moment. “Please, don’t give up.”

Niall frowned. His was voice quiet, unsure and it spoke volumes of despair that, oh gosh, Niall vowed at one point in the night – which had not even begun – they would and _he_ would not quit.

“I promise not to. Not tonight. Not now. Not ever, Snookums,” he added. They stared at each other intensely and once again Niall was mesmerised by the autumn colour of Zayn’s eyes when enough light got through.

He swore on Dumbledore’s grave that they were never just brown – at times they are hazel or the colour of autumn leaves or whiskey (usually). Other times they resembled poop (“My eyes do not have a poopy colour!” Zayn had huffed and stole his bag of Doritos, eating them all by himself), the brown crayon, wood, mud, paint, chocolate, kangaroo, coconut shell, leather, monkey… and now he was simply listing items that were brown… in the middle of sex.

“Uh…” he fumbled with words, getting his head together. “Lube. We need lube.” He straddled Zayn’s naked body and brought the bottles of lube that Zayn had bought earlier laying some on his body and others on the bed. “Which one would you like?”

“I vetoed the condoms.”

“You technically said, ‘Pick spontaneously.’ which doesn’t count at all,” he told him but he chose apple flavoured lube. He pressed a gentle amount onto his two fingers that some was dripping onto the bed. “Verbal communication, Zayn.”

“Yeah.”

His right hand moved up and down Zayn’s thigh, trying as much to distract him when he prodded at his hole with his index finger. Zayn’s hand fisted into the sheet for the second time in the late afternoon. Niall looked back down and pressed in slowly, his other hand palming his thigh, pressing kisses to his knee, too.

“You’re doing great, Snookums,” Niall told him. “So good, but tell me if it hurts.”

Zayn parted his lips, breathing a shaky breath out. He was facing the ceiling above him, trying to think of happy thoughts because _fuckingcuntballs_ this was hurting. He worried his bottom lip with Niall increasing the pressure and his whole finger was inside of him. Niall kissed his knee several times, his lips lingering as his death grip on the sheets loosening and he felt marginally relaxed when Niall parted his grip and held his hand instead.

“I want to make you feel good, okay?”

Zayn nodded against the pillow. _Verbal communication_ , Niall’s voice echoed in his head. “Yes, yes. Yeah.”

“Tell me when to move.”

“Move.”

“I move when you want me to. We’re not rushing, alright?” Niall assured him and he could see Zayn visibly relax on the bed. Niall ran his thumb across his knuckles, where the tattoo _love_ was written in cursive below them, with a minute or so passing.

“Good.”

Zayn blinked up at the ceiling. “Sure.”

Niall’s finger pulled back, coating his fingers with more apple lube and pressing both of them inside of him, slower than the first time. Zayn was holding his hand normally, not squeezing it too tight like before nor having a death grip on the sheets. Niall pressed his lips to the side of his knee, his fingers pushing inside of him, the warm heat on his fingers rushing all the blood to his own throbbing cock.

“Feels weird.”

“Weird-good, weird-bad…?”

“Weird-weird,” answered Zayn, his eyes still glued above him. Weird-weird was the best explanation for it really; it was not bad neither good just… odd, really. The sting from the start was now a dull feeling and Niall’s fingers, now adding a third, a stroke of pleasure ripping through his spine. “Oh!”

“Sweet spot,” smiled Niall having found his prostate.

“Feels good, so.” Zayn moaned, bucking down on Niall’s fingers. “O _h shit_! Do it again.”

Niall obliged and curled his three wet fingers inside of Zayn, making a come-here motion, the Pakistani panting for _moremoremore_ beneath him. Zayn rocked his hips downward onto Niall’s fingers, riding his fingers as he chased the new feeling, the new rush that was blissful.

“I think I’m” – _moaning_ – “going to come like this.”

“I think you’re ready.”

Zayn whimpered at the loss of contact, involuntary wincing at the sudden empty feeling. Niall quickly slipped on a condom – Zayn having chosen vanilla – and rolling it on his thick cock. He positioned his cock before Zayn’s entrance and looked over at him, silently asking.

Zayn’s legs thrown around his hips and he nodded, teeth between his bottom, swollen lip. “Ready.”

Niall’s fingers drove from his throat, down his fur in the middle of his chest, to his fingers playing with his dark pubic hair and ending with his thumb pressing to his head, all the while his brain exploding like fireworks. It was a sight to see, to _feel_ Zayn, his warmth, his skin, _him_ , and it was all for him, all for him and no one else.

“Set?” He all but moaned the word.

Zayn rolled his eyes fondly, laughter pooling in his belly. “Go.”

Niall entered him slowly and Zayn did his best to relax with the odd feeling of being filled out. His eyes blew out and mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ – Niall was massive and he felt himself stretch to accommodate him. _Shit!_ He was so unprepared for Niall. His blunt nails dragged downward on Niall’s back, his mouth wide open in a voiceless cry with Niall’s cock _growing inside of him_ and then dug into his pale skin when Niall was wholly inside of him.

He felt so good, the velvety warmth around his cock, the hot trails on his back, Zayn’s gruff and rough voice spluttering beneath him his hot breath in his ear, it was taking all of Niall not to thrust into Zayn.

They both stayed like that for a while, Zayn revelling in the feel and Niall not wanting to move until he was comfortable. He distracted his need to _move_ by nibbling on Zayn’s skin where he had the skull with a top hat tattoo, tasting the salt and sweat and _Zayn_ on his tongue.

“Move, Niall.”

“Sure?” asked Niall, pulling back to look into his eyes.

With a nod and a quick peck, Niall pulled back and plummeted into him. Zayn whimpered at the feeling and Niall thrust into him countlessly. It began with a slow rock of their hot bodies, moving in a sweet slow rhythm before picking up, hands planted on either side of Zayn’s head with a moaning of f _asterfasterfaster_.

Zayn pressed his head further back into the pillow, his eyes rolling behind his back of his head. He called him out, _NiallNiallNiall_ several times in a row and his hands digging into his shoulders. He was trembling beneath his boyfriend’s heated body, their chests sliding off his each other, his own cock stuck between and throbbing at the friction.

“You feel so good,” moaned Niall, slamming his cock into his prostate. Not only that but the sounds coming off Zayn’s delicious lips were pooling deep in his stomach, of _yesyesyes_ and _moreFUCK!YES!faster_ , his balls aching but he wanted to drag this out, wanted Zayn to come first. First things first.

He pulled his head off where it was buried on his sweaty neck and gazed at Zayn who’s lips were now permanently in an ‘O’ shape crying out for him, to _stopstop_ and with Niall coming to an agonizingly slow stop to no, _don’t stop_ , go _fasterYES!faster_. He pulled back and slowly entered him, then pulled back and slammed into his prostate, falling into this rhythm that had Zayn curling his toes and calling for _NiallNiallNiall_.

“Did I mention…”

Zayn blinked his eyes open, dazed and on the edge. “Huh?”

Niall’s lips were on his earrings as he said, voice low, “I have something for you in the other room…”

“Wh-what?”             

“Chocolate-covered strawberries.”

Zayn pushed his arse down on Niall’s cock, his toes curling on Niall’s sweaty back, his jaw slackened and back arched off the bed carrying Niall up with him as he came, hard and long, over both of their chests, his nails dragging up his back. Niall came not long after his eyes not looking at anything else apart from his boyfriend’s come face.  Simply beyond words, his face. He was worth the wait, honestly, it all was for him, him, him because he was a sight to see and he was going to be the only one to see it, over and over and over again.

Niall, pliant on top of Zayn, chuckled lightly on his collarbones. “I can’t believe you came over chocolate strawberries.”

“Shut up,” he huskily laughed. A beat. “Were you serious or was that your plan?”

“That that is what would make you come?” Niall inquired. Zayn nodded, his stubble brushing on Niall’s jawline. “I didn’t know that, and totally keeping that for next time if you ever take long to come. And second, I was serious.”

Zayn made a sound of excitement. Not only was his first time amazing, and the first time with _a bo_ y, but he was going to eat his guilty pleasure! Niall got off Zayn, pulling out of him slow and the empty feeling coming back to Zayn.

Niall does not remember falling asleep, he could not have, but he had and when he was drawing out of his sleepy reverie, he was on the bed alone, sheets covering to his hips. The moon and stars – finally – were high in the sky and there was a chill in the room. Oh, how London weather changed randomly.

He checked the time on his phone – 11:02 P.M. – and locked his phone. He turned onto his back, the last bits of sleep leaving his body. He got out of bed in search of Zayn, wearing his (chuckling at the white colour) Calvin Klein’s and popping Zayn’s black shirt with the breast pocket on that was on the end of the bed. He brought it up to his nose, inhaling a scent of mint, faint cigarettes and Zayn.

A smile curled on his lips. He could not believe it, really he had to be in a dream (or a cool parallel universe) but he was dating Zayn. _The_ Zayn. Greek god Zayn with chiselled cheekbones, eyelashes that could cure cancer and blinked so slow it was hypnotizing. Also, Zayn who was a huge comic nerd, goofball, could put Gordon Ramsay’s cooking to shame, insanely wise and talented, secretly loved drawing on his notebook, admired the likes of Lecrae but told no one because he wanted something that was just his. Also, Zayn who wore his heart on his sleeve, who preferred animals over humans because of their pure hearts, who was in the pursuit of a little happiness in a world that was so unforgiving.

Also, Zayn who was his boyfriend.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, walking into the large living room of the Presidential Suite to find Zayn laying on the couch holding his phone above his face.

Zayn arched his head back, looking at Niall stepping towards him. “Texting.” Niall rounded the couch and sat square on his stomach. “Oof! Get off, you twat.” Niall wriggled his butt, getting comfortable on his stomach, his legs stretched out to the coffee table with a huge bouquet of blue flowers that he had ordered for Zayn.

“Please tell me you haven’t eaten all the strawberries,” he said, seeing the bowl that had the chocolate strawberries by his head empty.

Zayn shook his head, the phone light illuminating his face. “I kept the rest in the fridge because I knew I would finish them. I’ll eat them tomorrow. Don says hi.”

Niall smiled. “How’s her Youtube channel going?”

“She’s apparently made a video already, with Calder.” He passed his phone to Niall who took it seeing a Beauty video loaded with a collaboration with Eleanor. “I understood shit but she’s was amazing.”

“Will you send the link? So I can watch later?”

“Course,” he said, accepting his phone then locking it. Niall laid his head on his chest, bringing his knees up and feeling like a small ball of fur on him. “I had fun tonight.”

“Really?”

Zayn brought his head up and kissed the crown of his head. “Very, Habibi. It’s—this is so embarrassing but it’s the first time I’ve, uh, ever came twice. In a row.”

“Really?” he asked, his tone full of astonishment. “Never?”

“Not until with you.” Niall was all goo inside and he could do nothing, or speak, but curled into Zayn more. “I like you.” Zayn felt the smile spread on his neck. “So much. And not just for today but—everything. All of it.”

“I like you a lot.”

**~                 ~               *               ~              ~  
**

Niall was a busy, busy man. So busy, him, that was rarely online which, well, was a shocker to all. Fans were even worried, messaging Eleanor and Zayn asking if Niall was alright.

First was good news. His single, _Human_ , was topping the charts and was still at the top even as August was coming to an end. He had won several awards from two Award shows he could not attend but celebrated by following fans and sending a thank you message to all – and a night out with Eleanor, Bressie and Eóghan.  

Wedding arrangements were well underway, and it was time for the countdown to the wedding D-Day with just a little over a month as Maura settled on a date of the first week of October. They had already gone for their measurements for the suits, Niall and Harry having settled on the caterer and were working on the menu together (when Harry was free for seeing as he was in France filming all the time), nearly 80% of the guests had RSVP’d and Niall was underway making hotel bookings for the out of London guests which was, well, 70% of said guests and he found out he would be booking _more_ hotel rooms at The Dorchester.  

Speaking of weddings, Chris had confided in Niall and Eleanor that his side of the party was thin compared to Niall’s Ma. Niall asked him if he had any remaining family members (Chris’ family were spread out across the continents and the last time he spoke to any of them was in the last decade) and, yes, he had one sister left (that was willing to speak to him) living in Cape Town.

Off Chris, Eleanor and Niall went – joined by Theo – to Cape Town. Niall and Theo spent most of the days down by the beach with the sun not so warm seeing as it was not summer in South Africa while Chris and Eleanor went on a hunt for Chris’ sister. Luckily, they did find her but unlucky for Chris, she wanted nothing to do with him, accusing him of abandoning their family for his new life up North. He left the wedding invitation by the coffee table before leaving her house.

It was back to career life on Tuesday with performances for Niall all across Europe, starting with home here in London, then down to Italy and traveling East, then North to Sweden, Norway and by Friday, he was dead on his feet he passed out and woke up well into the afternoon on Saturday with bad news.

The end of an era, was what it was. Eleanor Calder, his P.A for as long as he can remember (since the end of last year) was quitting. She explained that she was getting quite busy nowadays, what with her main Youtube channel doing extremely well, her second fashion channel taking off quite nicely, and being his Ma’s wedding planner (a whole stress of its own), there was so much on her plate. She had pedantically sorted everything – as Eleanor usually does – and in her replacement would be Elena. See, Niall never knew what her actual job was, really, but at the same time, he did not… He knew only that she did something something managing something of social media something something. Oh, and damage control of... something something.

It really was the end, Niall felt it. As soon as Eleanor had announced her resignation, Elena had travelled from California to London to map out his schedule for the remaining days of August. It was all too much. He would be flying to India and Singapore, stopping by Australia and Fiji, then to Texas and California, then to Nigeria (“Your song _Human_ has made a huge hit with Nigerians!”) then to other places that Niall was drifting off and imagining conversations in his head where he could somehow convince Steve to change his P.A. He had photo shoots, radio interviews, signings, TV shows….

As far as music went on, he was back to composing songs. He was called by the Christopher Nolan one fine Monday morning and having been recommended by Harry and David Yates (squeal!!), was asked to re-make the song _Nearer, My God, To Thee_ for his upcoming film _Dunkirk_. Christopher Bloody Nolan. He had to count down from twenty just in case he was living in a dream. He had heard great things about the Christopher Nolan, of the films he did, the awards, _the Oscars and Grammys_ , the passion he put in directing his movies but hearing was different than _being_ in his presence. His knees were wobbly when he was walking out of Nolan’s office, standing by the water cooler to get his breathing down and his body temperature, too.

On the plane ride to India, he watched one of Nolan’s best films, recommended by Harry, _Inception_ and oh my days, it was perfect. The whole of it. And not just because Tom Hardy was there. Nope. He spent the rest of the flight listening to the different versions of _Nearer, My God, To Thee_ he had earlier downloaded. Nolan had told him that the song he should compose would be played when the bodies of the soldiers were being carried across. Across what? he had asked but Nolan remained mum. He thought he meant in a funeral manner, but he was not sure. He popped in his earphones and played all the versions of the song on a loop.

He was so swamped with work that he could not attend his boyfriend’s launch of his Giuseppe shoe collection that was phenomenal. The launch was attended by the whos-who of the fashion industry René Lacoste, Christian Louboutin, Vera Wang, Gianni Versace and Niall was so, so proud of him. He really wished he could make it, to be there for him but Zayn assured him he was fine and he kept updating him on Snapchat with videos of the party, photos he was taking with fashion icons he did not know (until Zayn started adding their names on the captions)(like who the hell was Levi Strauss?).

What surprised him was one particular shoe. They were simple trainers, black, with cool graffiti of four-leaf clovers around it and on the back at the bottom, Niall’s name written in block letters. It was Zayn’s shoe dedicated to him!

He made an order for all (five) of the shoes but made extra orders for the shoe dedicated to him. As he opened the box of the shoes when they arrived, he deemed himself lucky because Zayn’s shoes were out of stock within five minutes of their launch. Testing the shoes by walking around his living room, he was immensely proud of Zayn (and flattered Zayn dedicated a show to him).

As for Niall’s other friends, he kept in touch as much as he could. Liam was in Honk Kong for pre-season matches with several teams for the Premier League and he was stoked to start playing football once again. Harry was in France filming for _Beauty and the Beast_ and Louis was, well, in Doncaster with Johannah.

He had had to swallow his pride, which he did when he picked up the phone and called Louis. It rang and rang, it would cut, but he would re-dial and it would continuously ring with no answer and on the 43rd try, he knew Louis was ignoring him, yes, _the 43 rd_, but Niall was not one to give up. And so each day, as August came to a close, he phoned Louis thrice a day. Three because, well, three was a known lucky number.

Eleanor had one and for all decided to cut off Pep’s bullshit and they called it quits – quite famously in the football world. See, in the football world, certain managers were quite famous, moreso Conte, Mourihno, Wenger, Guardiola, and therefore what happened in their life – private and public – everyone knew about it meaning everyone knew of Eleanor Calder, Louis Tomlinson’s ex-girlfriend. Niall was disappointed by it (it was his closest link to the football world, really (Liam not counting)) but his disappointment was replaced with thrill when she told him she would be (officially) dating Black Thor a.k.a Bien (but Niall preferred Black Thor).

Why? Free frozen yoghurts!

The few times he was actually at home in London, he spent them in bed, catching up on sleep. On days off, he fed Emirates (Niall finally agreeing with Eleanor on the name) and learned how to take care of Zayn’s hedgehog. It was quite easy, once you got past the initial shock of _how do I take care of a bloody hedgehog?!_ and studied its patterns. Zayn still had not named her, apparently still pondering on the name. He had asked Niall for name ideas which, well, he had none at that moment. Even now he still could not think of a creative name for the little spiky bugger that for some reason loved chilling in his bathroom.

As for his songwriting, he was doing well, he thought. He wrote a song about Zayn, something he wrote in a record four hours and he loved it. He had been receiving pressure from Elena to release _Slow Hands_ – a song about the devilish boy from Texas – and sure, Zayn said it was fine if he released it but he felt odd so he tried convincing Elena that the new song he wrote was better than _Slow hands_ – or even the other song he had written when he had been down in Singapore – _Texas_.

“ _Texas_?” she parroted. “Doesn’t sound very catchy like _Slow Hands_.”

Niall rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s—it’s a catchy song and—”

“Is it about Zayn?”

“No.”

Elena loudly sighed on the phone, Niall catching his name in it somewhere. “Fans would like to hear something that will hint at it being about Zayn. I think _Slow Hands_ will do the job and the song will stay on the charts just like Human has.”

“Neither of the songs is about Zayn,” he told her. “They are about two different people. Besides, it has a Folk/Rock feel to it as compared to Pop with _Slow Hands_.”

“Can you make it sound Pop? Jamie can—”

He stopped her there. He was not going to change his voice to suit his fans or gather more views or plays. He informed her that he would send her a draft of the _original_ song before she made judgements on it.

With all this going on and _more_ , Niall had been organizing a surprise for his boyfriend. He had put his boyfriend through so much crap such as burning his house down, Zayn being sued and going to court because of his house issues (fire, the homeless, wild animals, et cetera et cetera) as well as by simply dating him, he was paying for it every single day without even knowing it.

So, with his brother’s help, they got the charges terminated which was quite easy what with Zayn having a new lawyer. Second, the court charges. Niall explained to the judge that he was acting alone when he was vandalizing (and igniting fear, amongst other things) Zayn’s techy house and instead, it was him who was now charged with the charges that Zayn was being held accountable. He really did not care because now Zayn could legally buy a house – anywhere in the UK.

His next surprise involved all sorts of people that Zayn cared for. First was his family (excluding Yaser), followed by thousands and thousands of his cousins which Niall now grouped between ‘Good Cousins’ who accepted Zayn for coming out and ‘Bad Cousins’ who did not. It dampened his spirit on seeing the Bad Cousins’ list quite long. No matter, Zayn’s friends were there to help him in his surprise. The fans, too, were part of it and thanks to Jawaad, he managed to keep Zayn off social media for as long as he could as Niall gathered the fans (not just the ZQUAD, but all Directioners) on the surprise. They were excited and Niall promised them to show how the surprise turned out.

Last puzzle of his surprise was getting Zayn in London – which took quite some time as Zayn was being invited to such-and-such fashion show, shaking hands with Fashion Kings and Queens that, well, Niall kept pushing his surprise forward but finally, _finally_ , Zayn said he would be in London on the 26th to which he texted everyone on the WhatsApp group, _Operation Kilam ON betches!_

**~                 ~              *                ~                ~**

“Is he awake?”

“Yep. Taking a shower.”

“I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“Me neither!”

Niall scoffed. “A little confidence would be great, ladies.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes waving a dismissive hand at him. It was the 27th today and Niall’s surprise for Zayn was in motion. The first part was underway, Zayn’s sister’s (Doniya and Walihya) and Jawaad were at his house waiting to take Zayn out for breakfast.

“These egg omelettes are delicious, El,” gushed Walihya, munching happily.

“Thank you,” gleed Eleanor. “I’ve been working on making them fluffy and it’s been quite hard.”

“Nailed it,” Doniya told her. “You should take after her.”

“Blah blah blah,” said Niall which had all three girls looking at him oddly. “Zayn can cook.”

“Yeah but that’s not enough. What if he’s sick and can’t cook?” asked Walihya.

“I’ll order out.”

“Really?” wondered Doniya and Eleanor was laughing behind her hand. “You’re not—”

“Oi!” Niall was not going to be cornered today. “Today’s about your brother not on my non-existent cooking skills.”

“Non-existent is right.”

Niall narrowed his eyes at Eleanor as the Malik sisters openly laughed. Zayn walked through the kitchen, stopping his tracks at the sight of his sisters. Walihya was the first to run over and crush him in a hug and soon it was a hug ball of the Maliks.

“You didn’t say you were coming, I’d have woken earlier.”

“First, we know that’s a lie,” Doniya said, “and second, we just came.”

“Now, c’mon,” urged Walihya, tugging on Zayn’s right hand, “We’re going out for breakfast.”

Zayn looked over at Niall then to his younger sister. “You’re joining us?”

“No. It’s just your family,” he Niall, trying to keep the fond out of his voice. He had earlier told him that the three of them (Eleanor, too) would be heading for breakfast. Zayn accepted Niall’s half-empty cup of tea (“No sugar?” pouted Zayn) as Doniya told him of this great breakfast place in the heart of London that had the most amazing pancakes. What Zayn did not know was that it was part of Niall’s surprise plan.

Walihya said something in Urdu (Niall was positive it was Urdu and not Arabic, having understood the difference between the two languages) which had Zayn rolling his eyes and Doniya looking as if she was trying not to laugh. Zayn replied in Urdu, scooping eggs on Niall’s fork and tasting Eleanor’s cooking.

Zayn turned to Niall. “I’ll see you later?”

“Course.”

Zayn kissed him soundly, Niall tasting his toothpaste on his tongue and a little egg. “Get some sleep, yeah?”

Niall nodded and kissed him goodbye. He had been feeling lethargic recently and he did not hear Zayn come in last night, slip into his bed and was surprised to see a Zayn in his bed. Zayn had immediately seen the heavy eyes and dark circles around his eyes and asked him if he had been sleeping. He told him it was work and he would be fine in the morning. Morning and he was feeling sleepy, still. Seeing as the entire day was catered for, Niall took to the bed after Eleanor assuring him that the surprise plan would be fine and she was on top of it if anything arose, and slept well into the afternoon, catching up on sleep.

Everything was planned, see. Breakfast would be with Zayn’s sisters and Jawaad at a restaurant that Doniya recommended.

Second, it was Liam and Harry. They would be having lunch with Zayn and the afternoon would be spent on test driving Lamborghinis in London and the three of them had a mini race (Harry was dead last, unsurprising). Their test drive was short so they went to the different shops on a shopping spree – on an unlimited credit card, thank you, Niall.

Mid-shopping Zayn was slowly catching on that this was being orchestrated and was not, in fact, a random surprise. He asked what was going on, if this was all Niall? what were they up to? but Liam remained mum and Harry shoved several coloured jeans (because he always wore black jeans) into his hands and pushed him towards the fitting rooms.

“Stop, I want to buy something from here,” he said, as they were walking down Oxford Street. Liam and Harry stopped midway, Harry’s hands looking like they would fall off with the amount of shopping bags he was holding from designer stores.

He found a Harry Potter gift at a shop and he knew Niall would immediately love it. Not only that, but it played the Harry Potter song, the one that always played in all the movies… he honestly did not know what the song was or its name but from the countless times, they have watched any and all of the Harry Potter movies, the song had continuously been playing. Also, he found two necklaces that he thought would put a smile on his boyfriend’s face. Well, he hoped.

At five o’clock, a white limo pulled up as the three of them walked out of a designer store and Liam and Harry were bidding him goodbye (with Harry telling him to wear the tight green jeans for tonight and Liam elbowing him quite obviously) and Eleanor and Hadiyya emerging from the limo. By now Zayn knew something was up but _what_ was the question. At this point, he was going with the flow so he did not question when the second limo pulled up to take them to a secret location.

It was tea time. High tea to be specific. They stopped at one of the most high-end French restaurants that specified only in pastries and one had to have reservations _months_ in advance that was mainly because their dishes were one to beat and simultaneously to emulate as they were all done to perfection. It was the IT place, essentially. So when Zayn saw the limo pull up before the French restaurant, he was gobsmacked. From the limo to their booked seats it was all a blur to him.

“How did Niall get an invite?” he asked eyes all over the light pink walls, the white wooden chairs, the guests at the restaurant enjoying their meals, the ambience of that of sugar, honey and tea, not to mention the heavenly smell of freshly baked pastry. Zayn was in pastry heaven – if there ever was one.

“Niall!” gleed Hadiyya her eyes glowing around the restaurant.

Their waiter came to their table, welcoming them, and explained to them that they shall be served four times, each round would be served with a new selection of tea (of their choice) and yes, they could carry some home, and no, it was all catered for by Mr Niall Horan.

The first round had Pimm’s scones, Butterfly cupcakes, Raspberry and dark chocolate teacakes, and Strawberry and white chocolate choux buns. For tea, Zayn went with Oolong tea, something he had never had before.

“How’s the tea?” asked Eleanor. Zayn made a face as he reached to the bowl of sugar. “Tasty?”

“I think I forgot to add sugar.”

“That’s what you get when you go for tea that’s trying to be coffee,” said Hadiyya. She was munching on the teacakes, a delight to her mouth. “You can really taste the raspberries in these.”

“These cupcakes are so much better,” Zayn said, chewing happily on a butterfly of the cupcake topping.

One waiter came to clear the table once they had declared themselves done and two others came to place their orders and put the next round of pastries. On the light blue tablecloth wooden table were four pastries: Morello cherry and almond traybake, Cheddar and sage scones, Chocolate fudge éclairs, and lastly, Golden orange and walnut flapjacks.

“Éclairs.” Zayn made grabby grabby hand motions at the chocolate fudge éclairs. “Come to daddy.”

“Éclairs?”

“Huge fan,” explained Hadiyya. Zayn took a large bite of the éclair and he immediately melted into his seat. Zayn was a huge fan of chocolate, everyone knew this, but mix pastry with lots and lots of chocolate and he was sold. “How are they, Zee?”

Zayn lolled his head back, the chocolate mixing so well inside his mouth he could not speak for a while. Meanwhile, Eleanor was enjoying the flapjacks and the tangy orange taste going well with her tea.

“I should ask Nini to make these flapjacks. I don’t think he’s ever done so.”

“I thought it was only Maura who could bake?” questioned Hadiyya.

“He can as well, he just rarely bakes,” explained Eleanor. “Lazy ass, he is.”

“These éclairs are perfect!” moaned Zayn, reaching for another. “Absolute perfect. I am going to make Niall make these for me.”

“Can he make them?” asked Hadiyya.

Eleanor nodded. “He can make any pastry you ask for, really. He just doesn’t make pastries that often.”

“How’s he so good when he barely goes to the kitchen?”

“I’ve always wondered that,” voiced Zayn. “He barely enters the kitchen to cook, or make anything – tea doesn’t count – and yet when he made macarons that one time they were perfect the first time around.”

Hadiyya gawks at her uncle. “Really? Macarons are tough to make. Like, really, really hard.”

“I know!” Zayn licked the chocolate off his thumb. “But he can and they’re so, so good—Ow! Stop hitting me.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” asked Hadiyya, upset. “You know I love macarons.”

“We cornered him into making it,” explained Eleanor, smirking with Zayn. “And he did. We should make him make us these flapjacks.”

“Éclairs,” protested Zayn. 

As the waiter came back to take their tea orders for the third round, Zayn requested that the Chocolate fudge éclairs should be packed and Eleanor for the Golden orange and walnut flapjacks. The next round all the pastries had meat in them – and yes, they were halal (Niall had specified so) therefore safe for Zayn and Hadiyya to enjoy. On their table were four dishes with several servings of a selection of summer sandwiches, summer sausage rolls, Egg and chicken brioche soldiers, and Lemony crab and cucumber clubs.

First off, Zayn did not bother with the clubs as they had crabmeat which he was not a fan of and Eleanor fidgeted in her seat because _crabmeat clubs, Malik!_ Hadiyya settled herself with the Egg and chicken brioche soldiers and Zayn was enjoying the sausage rolls.

“How did Niall manage to get a reservation here?” questioned Zayn, curious. “I mean, nobody just _makes_ a reservation.”

Eleanor and Hadiyya glanced at each other, then Eleanor spoke, “Ni did.” And immediately stuffed her mouth with a sandwich.

Zayn narrowed his eyes slightly at the both of them. “So you’re telling me that my boyfriend just happened to have a reservation? He didn’t even know I’d be here today—hang on! I told him literally two days ago that I’d be in London for a few so how cou—”

“Leave it, Malik. You try to figure this out your head will ache,” said Eleanor.

“And how did he manage to put all of you up to it?” he continued, ignoring Eleanor’s comment. “I mean, it doesn’t make sense.” He paused, choosing to taste the brioche soldiers that Hadiyya seemed to be enjoying. “How did he… plus how did he manage to know Walihya would…?” He shook his head, looking at both girls in a silent plea to have his questions answered but they remained stubbornly quiet, resolutely drinking their teas.

The last round was simply different types of cakes, a selection of not four but five cakes: Double chocolate loaf cake, Passion layer torte, Hazelnut latte cake, Bakewell cheesecake, and of course the classic British cake Lemon drizzle slices.

Eleanor particularly enjoyed the Bakewell cheesecake tasting exactly like how she remembered Niall made them: perfection. Hadiyya was the one amongst three of them who tried _everything_ on the table, not being picky once and this cake round was no exception.

“Is nobody enjoying the Lemon drizzles?” asked Hadiyya and the other two shook their heads.

“The latte cake is the best, in my opinion.”

“Anything coffee, Zee, you love,” Hadiyya sighed, digging her fork into the loaf cake. Zayn smiled at her through a forkful of the latte cake. As their bags were being packed to take home, Zayn passed his packet of Dunhills to Eleanor and he lit his cigarette with a match. Eleanor was passing the packet to Hadiyya when Zayn reached forward to grab them as she shook her head.

“You don’t spoke?” asked Eleanor, surprised.

“My mom will kill me and three years ago we lost my brother to lung cancer,” said Hadiyya and Eleanor looked to Zayn in confirmation and murmured her _sorry_ ’s. “It’s alright. Every time this one comes over for lunch, Auntie lecturers him for a good 45 minutes on dangers of smoking.”

Zayn smiled around his cigarette. “My mom and Auntie always fight over it when we have lunch and honestly she should give up.”

“Smoking is bad for you,” noted Hadiyya, looking over to Eleanor then back at her uncle exhaling smoke to the ceiling. “Very bad.”

“I know but I can’t quit,” said Zayn, sincerely.

Hadiyya nodded lightly. “I know. Remember that time we tried to make you stop? Wallahi, that was a mistake!” She laughed, Zayn smiling at her. “I hope Niall won’t want to smoke with you two around.”

“He does but when he’s really, really stressed,” said Eleanor and Hadiyya frowned deeply. “He’s not addicted or anything, trust, it’s something that happens once in a while, like once a year or something.”

“But why?”

“Reminds him of Holly, his ex-girlfriend. She sort of pressured him into smoking and well, he did and they smoked together always.”

“That’s horrible,” cried Hadiyya. Zayn brought his cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag. “What kind of girlfriend does that? Or person, really?”

“I think he misses smoking then he remembers who started it all for him and he stops.”

“So he found something to make him stop. And you?”

Eleanor shrugged, flicking the butt of her cigarette onto the ashtray. “You don’t wake up one morning and decide to stop smoking. It goes deeper than that, you really need a strong motivation to otherwise you’ll quit for some time, and two, three months later, you’ll break and smoke an entire pack in a go.”

“He’s done that before,” she said pointing to her uncle, alarmed.

“I smoke _less_ nowadays.”

“You do,” she smiled happily at her, if not a little proud. “Auntie’s happy.”

“Niall said he doesn’t mind me smoking.”

“Are you sure?” asked Hadiyya, sceptical.

Eleanor nodded. “We’ve been living together for a long time and when we moved in together I told him that I smoke and he said it was fine by him just to smoke outside the house or in my bedroom.”

“Really?”

“If Niall had a problem with my smoking he would’ve told me. He’s not those people who bullshit through things like these,” Zayn raised the hand with the burning cigarette. “But for him, I have been smoking _fewer_ cigarettes in a day.”

“Congrats, _Jaan_. Very happy for you,” Hadiyya cheered at him.

The waiter came back with their takeaway bags and it was time for the fourth part of Niall’s surprise plan. The limo dropped them off at Niall’s house except it was only Zayn alighting and by this point he had stopped asking and waved at them goodbye, making his way inside Niall’s house with his spare key and found Niall in front of the TV munching joyfully on Doritos and - this was new - guacamole.

“I think the most surprising thing is that you finally made guacamole to go with Dorito’s.” Zayn flopped on his back down on the sofa, his head on Niall’s lap, the long day catching up to him and feeling tired and sleepy. “Or that you went into the kitchen to make something other than tea.”

Niall shrugged, mouth full of Dorito’s as he was watching an intense game of golf.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he told him, in his voice that was always saved for just Niall. His hand was on Niall’s jaw, his thumb running along his jawline. “This was a lovely surprise. Thank you so much, Habibi.”

Niall smiled down at Zayn’s head on his lap. “Thank you, Snookums, but we’re not done.”

Zayn’s hand stilled on his face. “What do you mean?”

“The day ends at midnight, Snookums, we still have a little over four hours,” he said, his eyes darting to the large clock by the TV, then back down at his boyfriend.

“There’s more? How can there be more? You’ve done so much for me today.”

Niall chose this moment to be evasive – like everyone had been the entire day – and stuffed his mouth with Dorito chips. Zayn pulled himself off his lap and sat by him, his knees pressing against Niall’s thigh. Now that he really looked at him, he was dressed decently, hair done in a neat quiff, and smelled quite good.

“Is that a new cologne?” he asked him.

“Go get ready, we’re going out,” he told him instead. He watched Zayn fish inside his leather jacket pocket and remove a grey box and, with his sling hand, took his hand and placed it on his palm. “What is it?”

“A box.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

“It’s a,” began Zayn, his eyes on the box on Niall’s hand, “It’s something for you. Us. Well, I bought it for you but it’s,” he gestured wildly, “just open it. Please.”

Niall opened the box, untying the ribbon and unwrapping the silver wrapper. He gasped. Inside in the box were two matching black bullet couple necklaces. Niall picked up one and turning it around between his fingers (he should have cleaned his hand _before_ holding one) he saw that they were engraved.

“I had them engraved,” explained Zayn, voice nervous. “It—well, none of us could be there for our anniversary so I had the date engraved with our Hogwarts house names.”

The back of Niall’s eyes were stinging, the corners of his lips tugging up slowly but surely as he read the black bullet: _My Ravenclaw_ written in cursive and their anniversary date, 7. July. 2016, below and the year was done in Roman numbers.

“Fuck!” he cursed. He rapidly blinked at the bullet, studying it.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” he parroted, watery, and chuckling at Zayn. “Sometimes you can be dense.”  He kissed him squarely on the lips, then showered his cheeks and forehead with kisses until Zayn was laughing too hard that he stopped. “This is perfect. Here, put it on me.”

Zayn complied. “I’m glad you like it,” he said and Niall was beaming so much, his cheeks flushed and he wanted to take Zayn on the couch here and now but he had plans. He put on Zayn’s bullet necklace, his was the Slytherin and Niall’s the Ravenclaw bullet.

“My Slytherin,” hummed Zayn, his eyes sparkling. He snogged his boyfriend on the couch silly, Niall smiling so much into the kiss that he opted to shower his neck with _more_ kisses and one or five love bites.

**~                 ~                *               ~            ~**

 

They were in the Range, heading to what Niall deemed as the last stop for his surprise plan. This was the ultimate surprise for Zayn and honestly, he hoped Zayn liked it. As he was, yet again, waiting on Zayn to get ready (he listened to Harry and wore the green jeans), texting everyone on the WhatsApp group that they were heading to ‘The Location’ and everyone should be prepared. He also tweeted the fans that he was driving Zayn to said secret location (who were in on the surprise) and promised them photos later on.

Sneakily, during the day each of the people who had been assigned to spend time with Zayn had taken photos and posted at least a couple of photos on the internet and by the time Zayn was with Harry and Liam, on Twitter the top trend was #NiallerIsBoyfriendGoals was a worldwide trend and it had stayed at the Top Three up until now.

Before leaving, they took selfies in front of the ceiling to floor mirror in Niall’s hallway capturing their outfits. As always, Zayn was effortless in his outfit, looking like a model off a cool magazine, especially his forest green skinnies that had Niall’s heart pumping dangerously quick. His own outfit was simple, a red shirt that had a yellow line across it, blue jeans and Zayn’s Giuseppe trainers dedicated to him. They took countless photos, spending nearly 20 minutes in front of the mirror, each photo Niall starting strong but his selfie game weakening all the while Zayn’s got stronger and stronger. He uploaded a couple to his Instagram stories, as promised to the fans, and also to make Zayn’s exes jealous.

They were currently behind the usual London traffic, Niall in the driver’s seat and Zayn riding shotgun as he changed the music playlist, again. When Niall told him he was the one to be driving, Zayn pouted at him that Niall had to avoid looking at his face or else he would give in but he stood his ground (very proudly) and in turn, he gave up the radio rights meaning no Troye Sivan was being played this night. They made a deal, before driving out of the garage, that whoever was driving would not get radio privileges which Niall wanted to protest, but then realized Zayn was always driving between the two of them, and happily agreed.

“Pick a song already!”

“Radio rights,” said Zayn, sounding awfully smug.

“You play a song for a minute then change it then after 30 seconds, change it.”

“Radio rights,” he repeated, scrolling down the radio screen looking for the next song. And secretly riling Niall up.

Niall rolled his eyes and turned to the front, looking at the back of the car in front, a Toyota. He found his eyes dropping, his hand comfortably holding his head and really, he was falling asleep. Dammit! He slept in the afternoon, how was he still sleepy?

“Play anything,” urged Niall, blinking rapidly. He opened the window to let in the cool air… but no, the one day he hoped there was wind and cold in this great city of London, it was humid and hot. Shit.

“Anything? I played Lamar and you basically had a sour look on your face.”

“Play fucking anything, I don’t care,” grunted Niall and Zayn looked up to him. “Sorry. I’m feeling sleepy and the quiet is making me sleepier.”

“Didn’t you sleep?” asked Zayn just as a song played through. Niall honestly hoped it was not Frank Ocean or for sure, he would be asleep by the time they reached their destination.

“Future,” he said, smiling. Zayn quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “I listen to Future, you know.”

“No and no,” scoffed Zayn. “You is lying!”

“I is not.”

“You is.”

Niall laughed lazily, lolling his head on the headrest. “Talk to me or else I’m going to fall asleep and then make you drive which is pointless for the surprise.”

Zayn glanced at him at length before asking about the next single. Elena had given him an ultimatum of choosing between three songs for his next single. The first was _Slow Hands_ about the devilish boy, the second, _Texas_ , about Will Jardell, and third _Treat You Better_ , about Zayn. The obvious choice was Zayn’s song but to Elena, it sounded too acoustic, very Folky and not like _Human_ which was what the fans wanted.

“I’ve listened to all three and they sound amazing,” Zayn said, his hand on Niall’s thigh. “Niall, I told you I don’t care if you release _Slow Hands_ or _Texas_ , do what’s good for your career and whatever feels right.”

“But I want to release TYB.”

“Which one has more guitar in it?”

“ _Texas_. It has the more Rock tune to it.”

“Then that one.”

“Why?”

“Because you are the happiest when you have a guitar and a microphone. The other two also had such but in _Texas_ , I can really hear your voice, your smooth jazzy singing and it’s amazing. But ultimately, you pick the one you want.”

“ _Texas_ was about someone that had a huge impact on my life,” said Niall, trying to keep Will Jardell a secret (because it was his secret) and also trying to convey the meaning behind the song. “He really helped me be comfortable with my coming out and he’s the one who taught me how.”

“And you taught me how,” said Zayn, looking to Niall’s side profile. “What matters is that we’re here, together, doing all of this together.”

They arrived at the destination half hour later. Zayn was blindfolded and was following Niall gingerly. They stopped suddenly and Niall removed the blindfold from his eyes. They were in Zayn’s old neighbourhood, standing before the very house that had been trashed by Niall with animals and the homeless and other things that found Zayn banned from buying a house within the UK and facing countless court charges.

In front of him was not the same house but a better one. It looked brand new, really, dark blue on the outside with a gigantic roof, pillars by the doorway, the fence a black metallic one that he vaguely remembered talking about to Niall but, now, he was not so sure. The front yard was a colourful row of flowers, the grass immaturely green he was sure the sunset was playing tricks to his eyes and, _sugarhoneyicedtea_ , he was standing before his old house.

“Niall,” he breathed. “Explain.”

Niall sprung forward, spreading his arms wide and very dramatically, said, “Ta-da!”

“I’m going to need a little more.”

“Back in New York I told you that ‘East or West, Home is best’ and I heard what you had to say, that Home isn’t always a physical place but our hearts,” began Niall. He stepped forward to him. “But taking the quote literally, Home is here, in the United Kingdom where you grew up. I’m not gonna lie but when you told me that you were selling your apartment in New York it scared me because you were moving further away.

“Since March when you left the band, it feels like you’ve been moving, constantly leaving and not once catching your breath. This,” he pointed behind him to the towering house, “is a start. You grew up in this country, Zayn. Bradford is your Home, no matter where you go, where you settle, what new homes and friends and family you create along the way, you grew up here.

“Your childhood is here, your family is here, friends started here, One Direction started here, we started here… everything started here and.” He paused. He was standing before Zayn, the tip of his shoes touching Zayn’s signature black boots. “You grew to hate London, grew to hate where you called Home so you travelled East, West and—”

He inhaled, hand combing through his quiff.

“I hope you fall in love with this place again. That you can call this place your Home once again, even if so much forced you to leave. Besides, there’s no UK without the great Zayn Javadd Malik.”

“… so did some gardening?” he asked and Niall gawked.

Niall sputtered. “I made a whole Speech about homes and the UK… and that’s what you ask? Gardening?”

“Maura told me you do gardening but I honestly didn’t believe her,” he chuckled, reaching down to pluck a sunflower from the ground.

“Oi! I made a Speech about Home and things and you are here, _picking a flower_?”

Zayn rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath as he stuck the sunflower in his hair. “It’s not sinking in yet, love. You’ve surprised me so much that this is not sinking in.”

“I bought the house,” Niall said and this time Niall got the reaction he was looking for. “I bought it for you.”

“Wh-what?”

“The charges against you were dropped. Eleanor, Liam and I went around the neighbourhood collecting signatures from neighbours to let you back in the neighbourhood – a requirement by the Law – and in the process, we explained what had happened that night.”

“What?”

“And all of them except one agreed to have you back and now _I_ am the one who’s hated. I am the one who’s now going to pay for the damaged caused, a little bit of community service in November.” He shrugged one shoulder coolly. “No big deal.”

“What the fuck?!”

“We took your house down and rebuilt it from scratch, added a few stuff here and there but generally how you would like it.”

_“What the actual fuck Niall?!”_

“Do you want to see inside?” he asked him instead, joyous. He was bouncing his feet on the spot and now Zayn was shocked, staring at Niall, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I—I don’t know what to say. Fuck, man, is this real?”

“It is,” said Niall, pulling on Zayn’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

They walked into the house, everything currently happening to feel surreal to Zayn. None of this could be real, none of it, his brain repeated. Niall led him around the house, from one room to another, the high ceilings a sight to see, the floors, the amazing architecture of the house itself was stunning.

“There are three places that we stocked in the house,” said Niall, “and that is the kitchen and library.”

“Two…”

“You’ll see the third. C’mon,” he pulled on Zayn’s hand, “the kitchen is this way.”

Niall explained, as Zayn approached the kitchen, that Tricia and his Ma helped stock it. They bought kitchen appliances that they felt that he would need, the cupboards stocked with various jars filled with spices and other things Niall did not know their use for. But what he knew was the large jars of Nutella stocked in the cupboard. Of course.

Zayn laughed, his brain still reeling. “You’re too good, Habibi. You know that?” He accepted the spoon from Niall to dip into the jar of Nutella and relish in the deep, sweet chocolate. “I don’t get how you’re not into this.”

Niall made a face. “So much chocolate in one go.”

 Niall took his hand, leading out of the kitchen and up the stairs where to his immediate left was the library. It was a fully stocked library, the shelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, fully stacked, shelf after shelf, row after row was full of books, books, books, all sorts of books. Not forgetting a whole section to just superhero comics.

“The fans did this.”

“What fans?” questioned Zayn, tearing his eyes off the bookshelves.

“I took your phone and had Jawaad have your phone, for several days so that you would not be online. I asked the fans to help in this surprise and they were all happy to help. I sent a list of Dickson, Tolstoy, and Nietzsche and requested them to buy any books by those authors. I only sent those three because one, they are your favourite authors and two, I wanted them to send books that they thought you’d like, some they loved and hoped you’d like too, and soon there were thousands of books shipping in, it took ages for your cousins to sort through. You’ll find on each that there is a message from a fan to you.”

“Ho-how?” he said, as breathless as he felt.

“It’s not just the ZQUAD but the entire One D fandom,” he told him, arm curling on his bicep with the tiger tattoo. “I think they’re finally forgiving you for leaving.” They looked at each other, Zayn’s eyes searching and his mouth moving as if to say something but Niall spoke what he was thinking. “This is fucking awesome.”

“Fuck.” Zayn pressed the heel of his hand to his eye, squeezing and not wanting to cry because really, this was so much, today was too much and he did not deserve any of this. “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“That’s true,” he said, firm, as he pressed his thumbs to Zayn’s cheeks, wiping away the tracks. “You don’t deserve people who don’t give a shit.”

“I meant you,” he corrected, watery, pressing the heels of his hand to his eyes to stop but his cheeks were still wet and his throat closing on itself. “You’re a real life angel, wallahi.”

Niall kissed him. His hands were on his face, his entire body pressed to Zayn, and he kissed him soundly. However, almost immediately Zayn pulled back.

“I have tears and snot and ickiness and—”

Niall pulled him in for another kiss, not caring he could taste the tears on his lips. Here he was, in the middle of his grand, grand library, Zayn’s hands under his thigh and him wrapping his legs around his middle, and if you had asked him at the start of the year where he would be at the end of August honestly this was the last place he thought he would be. But feeling Zayn’s teeth nibble on his lips there was no place he would rather be.

There was more to the surprise, Zayn protesting that he would be a bawling mess, and this was the last surprise, he promised Zayn. The last surprise was out in the large backyard where everyone was. Literally. There was Tricia, Zayn’s three sisters, Jawaad, Hadiyya, his ‘Good Cousins’ and his countless Aunties and Uncles. There were his friends, high school friends, Bradford friends, the odd couple he lived across him back in his New York apartment, the new friends he made along the way after March 2015, and of course Liam, Harry and Eleanor.

Zayn was immediately pulled into a group hug of family and all he could hear were tears of joy and lots and lots of Arabic and Urdu and he walked off to the other side where there was a lot of food.

Tricia was leading Zayn towards the edge of his backyard where, at the corner near the large, green hedge, was an exact replica of his grandfather’s bar that he had in his old house. Tricia smiled up at her son, squeezing his hand.

“Niall made it for you,” she said, her voice wavering. He slowly walked around the bar, his hands running over the wooden bar, eyes on the bottles and bottles of _everything_ in the shelves behind the bar, the fridge, the small knick-knacks he would need to make drinks. It was better than the bar he had for his grandfather; it was spectacular.

“He asked us if we had a photo of Walter’s bar, the original, and we did,” said Tricia. She sat on the bar stool looking at her son graze his fingers over the brand bottles lined up on the shelf. “He said he wanted to rebuild it, start afresh with all of it. Liam bought the drinks and everything else you will need.”

Zayn turned then to look at his mother. “Liam?”

“He was there that night with Niall when he burned the bar down and he felt bad about it.”

Zayn nodded. He knew this. “He told me… I just didn’t think he would…”

Tricia smiled softly. “Harry helped, too. The both of them did and it turned out great.”

“I have more things than I did before,” gushed Zayn. “It’s—spectacular. All of it.”

Zayn got to what he did best: making cocktails. He made his mother her favourite cocktail, a Margarita. As he pulled down what he would need, his mother and him got to talking, catching up on everything back home. Everything was still the same in Bradford, nothing much had changed, but Tricia assured her son that his father still loved him.

“Hard to believe,” he told her, sliding the glass across the bar to her. His eyes glossed over her shoulder where there was music, laughter and dancing, with bright lights colouring the party. “He hates who I am so how does he love me?”

“Deep down he does, Sunshine, and we all needed time to learn and it’s taking your father longer.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to shake her head and reassure her only son that his father loved him but none of it would stick because Zayn had a mental block and nothing she could say would hit home.

“What are you going to do with the house?”

Zayn had poured himself a glass of Coke with lots of ice, a little Vodka, and took a sip. “I have no idea. I still feel like all of this is unreal, Mom, and I’m going to wake up soon.”

“I know. It’s not every day someone buys you a house. I remember when you bought us a house, Sunshine. I was over the moon and you had kept saying you’d get me one and you did and now look, the same thing is happening to you.”

Zayn was grinning at his mother. “I know and I’m so happy I did.” He took a drink of his cocktail. “Taking care of you was one of the reasons I joined X Factor. But how did he manage to get everyone to do this?”

“Quite easy, really. We all wanted to be a part of it. He asked us sometime on the 10th, 11th of this month and he explained what he was going to do. He assigned us different things to do, making us feel part of this grand surprise,” she made a circular motion around her head, “and it was perfect.”

Zayn stared at his mother, gobsmacked. Niall started this surprise from the beginning of August? For weeks Niall had been planning this? His knees were wobbly and he sat down on the stool behind him, his hands on the bar.

“You seem to be in shock.”

“I am,” he told his mother. “I thought this was a spur of the moment thing but… he’s been planning this for so long.”

“He loves you, Sunshine,” she said, her voice calm. She laid her hand on top of his left hand with the white wrapping. “He loves you very much. And we love him just as much.” Oh, Zayn was going to be a watery mess. He felt the sting behind his eyes which began watering. “He’s family now, innit?”

“You don’t know much this means to me,” he said to his mother. “It means the world that you like him.”

“I do,” she agreed with him and shook his hand in his. “He’s right for you.”

Next up was Maura who happened to walk around the party and join Zayn by the bar. After his mother’s (surprise) stamp of approval on Niall, he had to win over Maura. She requested for a Negroni, one of the cocktails that were easy to make but one mistake and it went wrong completely.

“’Tis me fiancée’s favourite drink,” she said after making her order

“Good taste, Chris has.” Zayn was nervous what with Maura’s watchful eye as he poured dry gin. “How goes the wedding plans? Niall was telling me your wedding dress has arrived from Vera Wang?”

“It ‘as. Beautiful dress. The Maid of Honour’s dress, Harry’s Ma, was t’e wrong fit so we sent ‘t back t’ be adjusted. So far, all’s good.”

Zayn finished making the cocktail and put it in front of her. She lifted the glass, in a ‘Cheers’ motion, and tasted it. He watched her drink, feeling anxious and sweaty and jittery. What if he added too much garnish? Too much Campari? Too muc—

“T’is is good,” she said, amazed. “’Tis really good. Nini wasn’t exaggeratin’ when he said ye ‘r’ good at makin’ drinks.”

“Thank you, Maura. Another?”

“Please.” She slid her empty glass and Zayn started on making a brand new Negroni. “I can see ye really care ‘bout me Chicken.”

“I do,” he told her. “I really, really do.”

“When ye left One D,” she said, gauging Zayn as she spoke, “he was really upset. He t’ought he lost ye for good. Weeks turned t’ months ‘n’ ye weren’t comin’ back; no calls, no texts, not a word.”

Zayn thickly swallowed. He made his hands busy by making her cocktail drink slower than normal.

“Me Chicken doesn’t do well with people leavin’. His Da left, his friends, over t’e years he’s lost people ‘n’ ye became one ‘f them ‘n’ now t’at yer back in his life, he’s still scared yer goin’ t’ leave.”

“I wouldn’t leave him. He knows that.”

“Why do ye t’ink he bought ye t’is house?” she asked him and Zayn did not know, not really anyway. “’Tis ‘cause ye left.”

Zayn fluttered his eyes closed, inhaling for a few beats. “I told him I was selling my apartment in New York and moving permanently to L.A.”

“He saw it as ye leavin’ everythin’ behind, includin’ ‘im as well.”

“But I’d never leave him.”

She softly smiled at him, accepting her drink. She drank as Zayn watched her, his brain racking for something to say, anything to assure Maura that he was not going to leave his son. “I care about your son, Maura. Very, very much and—the thought of me leaving him is scaring _me_. I want to be a hundred percent here for him.”

“How can ye do t’at when yer on the ot’er side of t’e pond?”

“I’m working on it,” he answered her.

“I know ye are. Tricia told me about yer family ‘n’ their… acceptance of you,” she said, careful, watching Zayn over the rim of her Negroni. Zayn, however, wavered his eye contact and searched the crowd for his mother. “’Tis hard, I know, ‘n’ he knows that trust me, but stayin’ gone won’t make ye feel better. Ye Ma misses ye, terribly.” Zayn closed his eyes. “When yer on the ot’er side of the pond, even further by movin’ across America, she feels like she’s losin’ her son.”

Zayn started. He did not see it that way, honestly. For him it was simply moving to L.A. as everything he needed for his album and all was there, and also to save money but it seemed everyone was taking it the wrong way.

“She didn’t say anything.”

“Yer Ma didn’t want t’ worry ye. We let ye go ‘cause we know ‘tis the right thin’ to do but we miss ye, always, ‘n’ we hope ye’ll come back home.”

“I do miss her,” he found himself saying. Maura was suspiciously easy to say anything to and he did not find himself uncomfortable with the idea. “And I do worry but I don’t want to worry her… everyone.”

“Everyone?” she asked.

He looked away from the crowd to make himself another of the same drink, adding whiskey instead of Vodka.

“I feel so lonely, worse than before when I left the band. It’s like when I came out it’s as if I’m standing at an airport, with a large billboard with someone’s name – _anyone’s name_ – and one  by one people avoid me, they walk around me and soon I run out of names and there’s no one and I’m all by myself.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

He shrugged. “Everybody has so much going on I don’t want to add anything to it.”

“If you told Niall he’d help you.”

He smiled quietly. “He would.”

“‘N’ that’s t’e thin’ about me Chicken,” she continued her tone turning serious. “He’s stubborn as Hell. He wants t’ help the people he cares ‘bout ‘n’ he will do an enormous amount ‘n’ that’s the thin’, he will help ye fight yer battles, alongside ye. He doesn’t know when ye need to do it on yer own, which judgin’ from what I’ve been seeing’ and hearin’, ‘s goin’ to bother ye.”

He smiled, knowingly.

“He means well, he really does.”

Zayn shared a smile with Maura. “He’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

She grinned. “He is. Once in a while, ye’ve got t’ let him in, help fight yer battles with ye because if not then he’ll overthink everythin’ ‘n’.” She paused, drinking the rest of her Negroni. “It’ll be disastrous. I’m not sayin’ always but ‘ere ‘n’ t’ere, let him be there for ye as much as ye want t’ be there for ‘im.”

The party did not stop and went well into the night, the food plentiful, the drinks flowing around the party and the laughter growing loud and loud. During the night, they decided to make a fire, and sat around the large fire, marshmallows and mishkaki stuck on sticks and hovering by the fire.

With the clock nearing in the wee hours of the night, they had stuffed themselves with drinks and grilled meat, more and more coming and the chatter lively and sending ripples of laughter all around.

Niall’s fatigue caught up with him, and unable to keep up with the party, he fell asleep on Zayn’s warm chest, his lips parted and breath ghosting Zayn’s neck. He could feel a wet spot forming on his shoulder, Niall a known drooler, and he found himself wrapping his arms tighter around Niall’s warm body, the smile on his pink lips never leaving well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well well welllllllllll tis the season to be jolly [; honestly, i wish i had a bf that bought me a house *sighs* did you fellas notice what i did with the title & quote ? ♥  
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are very welcome, all good + bad, even if you're just coming over to say 'hallo' ☻
> 
>  
> 
> take care sons!!! & HAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPY HOLIDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYSSS ♦♦


	32. Play Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> several things happen in this chapter that will define the rest of the story... watch out for them ☺
> 
> enJOY ☺

> _**It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”** _   
>  _**~ J.K. Rowling** _

It was the party of the summer, Liam’s birthday party. From guests to food to venue to music, everything was over the top, everything was done in style. For his birthday party, he wanted a _Great Gatsby_ themed party and a Great Gatsby-themed party he threw.

The venue was Liam’s five million pound mansion that he was putting up for sale as of next week and Liam wanted to have a one last hurrah in it before he sold it. Days before his birthday weekend, he called several catering companies that came forward and began preparing everything. There were crates and crates of drinks, meats, pastries and the magnanimous task of cooking had begun.

Besides food, Liam hired another company, this time the décor company to decorate and design his entire mansion from scratch. Seeing as Liam, with the help of his Chelsea football teammates, had, as of last month, moved out of his mansion, decorating was easier for the décor company. On the drive to his 18th Century mansion, one would be enveloped by an jungle green archway of hanging branches, along the evergreen hedges were white columns with decorated flowers as one’s sleek car drove through on crunchy pebbles. As for the inside, the floors littered with silver and gold confetti, the walls high and the ceilings higher hung with low, diamond-like chandeliers that looked as heavy as three thousands lorries.  

Not forgetting the millions of balloons (Niall’s idea).

As for the guests, it was anyone you could think of. As a footballer, Liam was in a new clique of his own, bigger than when he was in One Direction. Footballers from all corners of Europe, from here at home in England, to Spain and Portugal to France to Netherlands, even as far as Russia were in attendance. Going outside the continent, there were the international stars from Brazil, Argentina, Chile and sailing outside South America, there were Nigerians, Chinese, Koreans and others that Niall was in awestruck by the sheer number of football stars _present_ (he gripped Zayn’s arm so hard he thought he broke his fingers, again).

There were others, too, from film directors, to (mainly) rap and hip-hop artists, A and B-list Hollywood actors, gossip columnists, movers and shakers, fashion kings and queens, business influencers… anyone who was _someone_ was invited to Liam’s birthday weekend. As the party roared into the afternoon, more and more people were still coming through and it was honestly as if the party was always _just beginning._

 

 

On D-Day, the air was spritzed with booming music of _got money and you know it, take it outta ya pocket and show it, and throw it_ that shook the windows and walls, loads of empty rooms with beds for as much use as people pleased (wink wink) with the sun shining down on everyone.

Upstairs on the second floor, in one of the countless of gigantic bedrooms of the mansion, were the five members of the original One Direction, Harry, Niall, Liam, Louis and Zayn, standing in a circle, each holding a gold-rimmed tot glass.

“To be 23,” began Liam, raising his glass of clear liquid, “is an adventure but more so, having all five of us was and _is_ an adventure.”

He paused as his eyes took his four friends in. Harry was donned in his small, tight yellow swimming shorts, Louis in an indigo swim shorts with red dolphin patterns, Niall in a tank top and knee-length swim shorts and Zayn opting to wear shorts and a Bob Marley tank top that showed off his ink.

“You four are the bestest friends I’ve ever met and the thought of losing one of you,” – here Zayn ducked his head as Larry looked to Zayn as Niall squinted at him – “is horrible to me and—ha! Looks like I got my birthday wish.”

“Wish was?” prompted Louis.

“That I’d have my four best friends before I turned 23… or _on_ my birthday.”

Harry threw himself at Liam, his hands around Liam’s tanned neck and cooing loudly. “Aww, _Leeroy_ , you’re so sweet.”

“I’m not done with my birthday speech,” grunted Liam. “And I thought we agreed we are not to call me by that name,” he added, prying Harry’s octopus hands off his body. “I still have lots to say.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Can we at least drink to the _start_ of your speech?”

“Drink!” Liam cheered and each drowned their shot.

“Why didn’t you bring champagne?”

“What are we, ladies?” scoffed Liam. “Be serious, H!”

“You bought a two million pound champagne when you were dating Sophia,” countered Harry. Liam shook his head, not bothering with a reply and went about filling everyone’s glass with vodka, _girls be thirteen acting twenty-two, niggas be forty-four acting half they ages_ playing in the background.

“None of us went through uni but, often times, I’ve dreamt about what each of us would be doing, where we’d be if we were in uni,” he said. He pointed his tot glass to Zayn. “You would be studying English, Niall at Law school,” he held his glass in Louis’ direction, “you at Juilliard’s and Harry at some pretentious Art school that only the Royal Family attend.”

Harry and Louis shared a smile, Louis cocking his eyebrow as if to say Liam’s hit it right on the head and Harry sticking out his tongue in response.

“Each of you have made me into the man I am today, each of you were always there when I needed you and none you let me down. Zayn for knowing when I needed a beer, coffee, or a whack on the back of my head.” He laughed along with Zayn. “To Niall, who never stopped giving, always, always putting a smile on my face even when I didn’t want to.” Niall raised his glass in a ‘Cheers’ manner. “Louis, who made me enjoy each moment of my life, not planning it out down to the second.”

“You were insufferable,” teased Louis and Liam playfully showed him the finger.

“And Harry, the biggest human cheerleader I could ever have. You were always the first one who I told whether it be good news, bad news… even taking me for auditions that I didn’t think I’d go for if I hadn’t told you.”

“What auditions?” asked Niall.

“Like the piano one?” Harry responded by asking Liam who smiled. “He wanted to play piano at this huge orchestra event in Wales and he didn’t think he was any good but he was brilliant. Out of this world, Liam is.”

“Human cheerleader,” repeated Liam and they all laughed.

“But now—”

“Wait,” Harry dramatically stopped him, his hand flying to Liam’s mouth with eyes wide open. “I think it’s best if each of us describes you before you continue with your brilliant birthday speech.”

“Does this speech have an end date?”

Niall hated it but he agreed with Louis. They had honestly been standing in this random large room, clutching a tiny glass between his fingers he thought the glass would slip right through. His eyes longingly looked to the ceiling-to-floor window, _my ex ask me where you moving? I said onto better things_ was blaring and chattering and laughter and _fun_ happening. Not to mention the boundless food that Niall was praying was not over by the time he left here…

Harry elbowed his boyfriend. “Don’t be rude!” He cleared his throat. “To Liam, my best friend, who even though he’ll never admit it, loved going to the zoo with me in each country we went to during our tours.”

“I didn’t love it.” Liam denied but the other three could tell Harry was right, Liam immensely did love zoos.

“And for watching romcoms with me,” he added.

Liam looked offended. “You roped Niall into that.” Niall winked at both Harry and Liam. “And only because Louis can’t stand such movies and Zayn _literally_ walked away from you, thinking you were joking.”

“Rude,” said Harry pointedly. Zayn simply shrugged.

“My turn,” said Louis and they turned to face him, except for Niall who determinedly looked out the sunny window. “To Daddy direction! And, speaking on behalf of all of us, for fixing the messes we brought ourselves in. Sorry for making you clean up our messes.” There was a general hum of agreement. “I mean it, Liam.”

Liam preened.

“To my brother,” – it was Niall’s turn –  “who always said, ‘Yes.’ to adventures.” He smiled, feeling lightheaded and not because of the summer heat. “The friend who was _always_ a phone call away.”

“ _Leeyum_ ,” said Zayn and his smile widened, “it’s a pirate’s life for us.”

“Yo ho, matey!”

They both clinked their glasses, Niall at a loss at what that meant?, what was it they shared? and in his heart, a green fire began to burn. He swallowed. He told himself not to think such thoughts, Zayn repeatedly told him with Liam, it had been flirting (the green fire roared more) but—but they were not dating _then_ and then it had been just that, having fun.

He absentmindedly drank his shot, the lyrics _strength and guidance, all I’m wishing for my friends_ mixing with his vodka. Besides, Liam was as straight as a ruler… even straighter, if possible.

“So now,” Liam continued his birthday Speech after each empty glass had been refilled, thanks to Harry, “it’s as if we’re graduating uni. Our lives have changed, for better _and_ for worse. I’ve watched all of you,” he took a slow swipe at each of his brothers, “change yet stayed the same. Seen each of you lose each other, find each other, and keep each other closer and with everything that has happened here today, I believe that we’ll _still_ be friends forever.” He took a hold of his tot glass. “And now we clink.”

They brought their glasses in the middle, lots of clinks and cheers filling the humongous room, and later drowning friendship down their throat.

“Before we leave enjoy ourselves till the breaking of dawn,” cheered Liam, “Plus, I’m not an idiot, I can see us not all put together but we’re getting there. So to Niall and Louis.” Had Liam not been serious at this moment, he would have found it comical they both looked affronted and narrowed their eyes at him. “ _Behave_ , please.”

“Promise, Payno,” Niall said. He had to, for all that he made Liam go through, not just post-1D hiatus, but even before that, he owed Liam this.

“We’re off today,” said Louis, who winked at Liam.

“Good, I can worry about you two tomorrow,” Liam said, relief flooding his words.

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

Zayn was at the bar, having lost Niall and Co. about an hour ago. The party was in full rage with everyone dancing, laughing, people swimming in crowds together, in and out of the mansion, _buzzing_ , and the only place that was not crowded was the bar. Well, _this_ particular bar, the others were too crowded, did not have whiskey, the barman was flirting with him, openly, and the last one was solely for beers.

This bar was abandoned, the barman somewhere, and so, being a self-taught mixologist, went behind the bar and made himself a mean Martini.

“Working the bar? Did Liam hire you?”

He looked up from his glass and he stood up straighter when he recognized her instantly. She smoothly sat on the bar stool as if she owned the place, the stool, a part of his heart. She had a smile on her face, still had her bright, big, blue eyes, her bouncy, icy blond hair that was now longer and her bubbly aura which he somehow felt a hundred times more but maybe that was because the sun was—

“Cat got your tongue?” his ex-fiancée teased.

He ducked his head, a smile playing on his lips. He inhaled shakily and raising his eyes to meet hers, he asked her what she would like.

“Just a beer.”

“You weren’t one for beer, Perrie,” he noted but nevertheless passed her a Heineken, her favourite.

“You don’t know me anymore.”

Zayn gulped and could not look at her anymore. He looked behind her head, watching a group of such-and-such play beer pong, _so let’s have us a little bash, and if anyone asks, it ain’t no one but us trash_ playing in the far, far distance.

“Liam threw an ace party.”

“Yeah,” he dumbly agreed and internally punched himself. He was losing his cool. “Sick.” He clutched his Martini and drowned its contents in one go.

Perrie set her green glass of beer down on the bar. “No hard feelings for _Shout Out To My Ex_.”

Zayn breathily chuckled. “None. I did write _SHE DON’T LOVE ME_ and other songs. It’s only fair.”

She pressed her purple matte lips together, almost smiling but not quite. He was still amazed he could read her. He busied his hands by pouring himself a generous amount of scotch whiskey in his previous glass of Martini. This was one those of those moments, it dawned on him, the ones where you had always wondered if you would ever get closure and you never did but maybe today, maybe now.

Here was his ex-fiancée, the one he cheated on repeatedly, dragged along through his fucked up mess and he should not have but he _did_ and he now had the chance to apologize, for whatever it was worth. He raised his head and was surprised to see her looking at him, expressionless. Calm.

“I’m sorry for disrespecting you,” he said, voice so sincere it startled Perrie. He had started, he might as well continue. “I’m sorry I cheated, lied, dragged you in my mess when all you ever did was trust me, care for me even when I never so much as lifted a finger. I…” he breathed In shakily, his brain filtering what to say but at a slower pace and now he was stalling and not speaking and—

“Wow, Malik, this is the most you’ve talked, ever,” bemused Perrie. “Who knew that mouth could form more than four words.”

She was being sarcastic, his mind told him. But it still hurt.

“I know you’re being sarcastic,” he said, more for his own benefit, twirling the Deadpool ring on his index finger, “but I know you may not believe me and these are words don’t matter anymore, but I always cared for you. Always.”

“Hard to believe.”

He looked at her. “I know you don’t believe me but I did. And I loved you.”

“If you loved me you wouldn’t have left me,” she said and Zayn’s eyes travelled back to the corner with the crowd of party goers playing beer pong, unable to look at her. “You wouldn’t have left me the first time you cheated, the second, fifth, twentieth, sixtieth… all those times you brought hoes to our bed when you whispered in their ears the same things you told me… do you know how insulting it is to learn the things whispered in my ear are the same things you told those hoes?”

Zayn winced uncontrollably at her words, her big blue eyes watery. She blinked and looked intensely at her green bottle.

“Funny thing is, I was so in love with you I couldn’t see it,” she told him, voice withdrawn. “I couldn’t see all the other _women_ , the lies.” She instantly looked up. “Did you ever tell them, your family I mean?”

“I told Doniya,” he admitted. “She was livid. And then my mom knew who obviously told my dad, so yeah, they knew about—it all.”

She took a swing of her beer and Zayn took his chance to quench his dry throat, gulping his entire glass in one go.

“It wasn’t just you, I must admit, we were falling out of love, hurting each other but I never brought anyone in our bed, never kissed another, never laid down with someone the way I did with you nor did I ever think about it.”

“I’m sorry,” was all that his mouth could say and he knew it was a little too late, they were just words like water on a duck’s back but _still_. He hoped they meant something to her, for whatever they were worth. His eyes averted from the brown, bare bar to a narrowed look from Perrie.

He was right, they were just words like _the dope boys in the building, wassup? the dope boys_ were words too.

“Niall’s a good person,” she said and his head snapped up from looking down at his empty glass. “If you cheat on him, I will personally rip off your balls and shove them up your arse they’ll be stuck in your lungs for life.”

He physically shivered at the image then had a small smile tugging on his lips.  “If I had a pound for every time someone threatened me with cheating on Niall, I’d be able to buy Buckingham Palace from the Queen and live happily for the rest of my life.”

“You better not, Zayn,” she warned.

“I’d never cheat on him.”

“Good.”

“I’d never cheat on him, Perrie,” he stressed. “How can I when he’s all I can think about? Always on my mind, him.”

“Shit happens… isn’t that what you said?”

Zayn exhaled. They were going in circles now, talking about his cheating like it was the only thing that was left of them.

“You look happy, like really happy.”

“Writing songs about your cheating ex-fiancé helps,” she said, and then smiled. Zayn raised his (refilled) glass and drank to that.

“It really does.”

“I have another one,” she added.

“How many songs did you write?”

“Over a thousand,” she snorted to her beer bottle, “but I’m not the only one in the band so only two are about you. It’s called _No More Sad Songs_. Released next week.”

“Can’t wait to hear it.”

“Liar.”

Zayn laughed and he laughed freely when she laughed along with him, feeling a substantial weight dropping off his heart.

“How’s… Alex?” he questioned, not sure if he had the right to but she instantly lit up and he counted it as a win.

“Alex is great,” she said, her voice bubbly and sweet to his ears.

“He ought to treat you well and shouldn’t cheat on you. Never shou—”

“Honestly, it’s so ironic that now you care about me,” she said and Zayn shamefully looked down at his glass. “I won’t let another man treat me like shit.”

“You shouldn’t,” he agreed. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re happy now.”

“Ditto. Niall’s good for you. Much better than Gigi,” she added, and Zayn could not help but smile though vaguely wondering why both her and Niall did not like Gigi.

“Do you hate me?” he asked and he crawled with cringe and icky-yucky-ness for asking and letting his guard down so low. He vowed after going home to Bradford and coming out to his family that he would never let his guard now, not let himself be vulnerable but here he was, breaking his own promise.

“You’re a good person, Zayn Javadd Malik,” she said, in a way that she knew how Zayn hated himself for feeling vulnerable and appreciated honesty, not sugar-coated bullshit. “You did bad things in the past but you are a good person, much more than you give yourself credit for. We’re only human, after all,” she added, cheekily.

Zayn laughed and he felt his heart flatter lightly inside of him. His shoulders slumped and he breathed in, then out, feeling the metaphorical door shut on his Perrie chapter. And just like that, the moment was gone and Alex was walking down to the bar, his steps bouncing to _she doing her thing out on the flo’, her money money, she make it make it **.**_

“Hey babe,” he greeted, planting a kiss on her cherry lips, longer than necessary in Zayn’s opinion but, hey.

They broke apart, Alex looking from his girlfriend to Zayn, him seeing the questions in his eyes, and he tried his best to be looking casual and mysterious and brooding and he thought he nailed it when Perrie _audibly_ rolled her eyes and muttered, “Boys.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked Zayn and Perrie leaned into him, her hand hooking to his bicep and smiling knowingly at Zayn.

“Take care of her, Alex,” he told him. “I treated her like garbage and when we left each other I regretted it.”

“I’m not a dickhead like you are—”

“So _if_ ,” he stressed, harsher than he had intended to with narrowed eyes, “I find out you aren’t treating her like she’s a Princess — and I shouldn’t even have the right to say this but I don’t care what _you_ think — you’re going to fucking regret it.”

Alex was deeply frowning at Zayn and it felt like time was passing them, the three of them frozen statutes – rather the two of them because Perrie was biting down on her purple lip, fighting down a giggle.

“I will,” he told Zayn and that was enough for him. “Bye… Zayn.”

She hopped off the barstool, grabbing her half-empty beer bottle.

“See you around, Perrie,” he said, instead, then shut his eyes, breathing in slowly.

“Hey, Malik,” Perrie called out and he looked up, he always looked up anyway. And for the first time, seeing the outline of her nipple rings through her semi-wet top.

“Yeah…”

“We became fridge people then we were off the fridge…”

At the time, Perrie’s friend had been getting married and she sent them a wedding invitation and they stuck it to their fridge – because Perrie liked the font on the card and Zayn would surely forget he had a wedding date to attend – and that summer their fridge had endless wedding invitations (it was looking more like a noticeboard than a fridge!).

(Except, one day, months after the summer wedding phase, a new one appeared up on their silver fridge. It was _their_ wedding card. See, they had narrated to the media they had not begun planning the wedding but, in actuality, they did and even had the Save The Date! cards sent out. Perrie had been excited about it, stating, ‘We’re finally fridge people!’ which meant that instead of attending other people’s weddings, they would be attending their own.)

It was during one of the many, many wedding invitations they had received, had happily danced and drank and ate and were quite smashed, finding Zayn holding Perrie’s lilac hair back as she vomited into the toilet while he was trying very hard _not_ to, that Perrie slurred, ‘There are two types of people, Baba: those who are on the fridge and those who are toilet people.’ and threw her head forward, wrenching the wedding festivities down the drain.

He dismissed what she had said, on the account that she was pissed, but the months after their drama-filled break-up, he often found himself hating and loving those two items. He hated going to the bathroom and hated fridges because he would be constantly reminded of his ex-fiancée.

“Who are you now?” asked Perrie, curiously. Zayn blinked out of his reverie, then blinked some more. Alex had his hand possessively behind Perrie’s back, looking at him with heavy suspicion, and he wanted to roll his eyes, hard, but he did not. Adult and all.

“Not a fridge,” he said and they smiled at the same time, Zayn ignoring the tight hold of Alex on her. “Not quite a toilet, either. You?”

“I’m the one who reads what’s on a fridge and sits on the toilet while at the party,” she said and Zayn slowly smiled at her, that night at the wedding flashing across his mind.

“Clever.”

Perrie winked. “Say hi to Niall!”

“Bye, Pez,” he whispered after she was out of hearing range.

Zayn stuck to the bar, it was easier than crossing over and mingling. Funny, he met a lot more people _behind_ the bar than in front of it, and perhaps alcohol had something to do with but, hey.

He met various people, the who’s-who in the industry such as Donatella who offered a fashion opportunity for him (gasp!), Jay-Z offering him a chance to freely produce music (Zayn gawking the entire time, and later on, wondering _why_ Jay-Z asked him)(and now he was going to have a word with Liam) Timbaland, Taylor Swift (tagging along was his ex-girlfriend which was awkward to say the least), couple of footballers here and there, half of them mentioning how he had a _character_ of a boyfriend (that was one way to describe Niall, he admitted fondly) and he was so exhausted of _mingling_ he was honestly so glad when Niall showed up at the bar, hair tousled and wild.

“Pretty sure when I said you’re getting drunk, I meant you being pissed not serving drinks.”

“How do you know I’ve been serving drinks?”

Niall gave him the look. Zayn rolled his eyes and pointedly poured amber alcohol into the glass, drowned it, and repeated it twice to start of _so what we get drunk? So what we smoke weed? We’re just having fun_.

“I love this song,” Zayn said then mumbling the lyrics underneath his breath.

“Wiz Khalifa is somewhere here,” he mentioned. “Remember back in the day when the weed video leaked?”

Zayn chuckled as he poured himself whiskey. They had been in Peru, on their tour, and Louis had been recording them in the van – _for memories, bro!_ – smoking weed and having fun but the video leaked and it was a PR nightmare which he honestly thought was complete bullshit. Did the fans think they did not get high? With their demanding careers?

He raised his glass to Niall. “Good ol’ days.”

“We need to up this,” said Niall as Zayn swallowed. He got off his bar stool and walked over to behind the bar. “Absinth.”

“Abwhat?” gasped Zayn, looking at Niall as if he were an alien. “You don’t just _drink_ absinthe.”  

Niall faced his boyfriend. “I promised you that I would take care of you as you got raging drunk without worrying about eating snails, or hitting your head on some pavement or…”

“None of those terms were part of the agreement.”

“Raging. Drunk,” he said, slowly, punctuating each word. He poured the green liquid into his previous whiskey glass and shook it lightly before Zayn’s pink lips. “Drink up!”

He eyed the glass suspiciously. “If this is your way of getting me into bed, I prefer food rather than drinks.” He gulped the drink and blinked. “Absinth is one of those killer drinks.”

“Really?”

Zayn paused. He turned to his boyfriend with a frown. “You’ve never drunk absinthe?” And when Niall shook his head, eyes wide and innocent, a smirk tugged at Zayn’s lips. “I know what we’re doing for your birthday.”

“As long as there’s cake,” said Niall. He poured another glass of the green liquid and Zayn drank it with no qualms.

“I heard Liam had a humongous cake,” Zayn spoke as he walked out of the bar and into the party. “Rumour has it, it might be chocolate.”

Niall rolled his eyes, hand on the small of his back. “You and chocolate! If chocolate were human, you two would be married by now.”

“With a thousand children,” exclaimed Zayn, swinging a hand around Niall’s shoulders.

“Chocolate children?” mused Niall.

“Aren’t those black people?”

Niall stopped in his tracks. “Isn’t that offensive?” Zayn shrugged. “Who cares though because I meant actual chocolate human beings.”

“Like how Donkey and the dragon in _Shrek_ had babies.”

“Horrible image, that,” said Niall. “Haven’t ever finished the last _Shrek_ movie because of that.”

They headed towards the other side of the mansion, the West Wing, where there were people who they knew, at least. As soon as they entered the colossal room, they were separated, with Lottie telling Zayn that Harry was upstairs looking for him. She hooked her arm with Niall’s and headed outside.

The party was progressing deep into the afternoon, there were many, many celebrities and famous people that he had been bumping into, his eyes finding in the crowd, he was wondering how on earth Liam (1) knew them and, (2) had their contacts to phone them and invite them over! Apart from that, it seemed this was the party of the exes. All of Harry and Zayn’s exes were present, but focusing on Zayn, Perrie was here, including Gigi, whom he liked better than Perrie, but did not mean he was a fan of _either_ of them.

“Hey, do you think Liam and Danielle are dating?” he asked, curious. Lottie shot him a look that said _no, of course not_.  “I mean, she’s here, you know, for some reason.”

“They are friends.”

“Still,” said Niall. He accepted the plate of delicious summer sandwiches from her and together they made it to a side of the garden that had white wooden chairs which they sat on. “Don’t you think it’s odd she’s here?”

“Maybe the ex-girlfriend gang is back together,” mused Lottie. “Eleanor is here, so is Perrie, and now Danielle. Now, all we’re missing is Taylor and Zoe. Was that her name?”

Niall pointedly ignored the question. “Taylor is here.”

Lottie’s eyes popped out. “Where? I haven’t seen her. Nobody’s talking about her.”

“Think people are more buzzed about Jay-Z and Kanye being here _more than_ Taylor.”

He took a bite of his sandwich and held it in his mouth, making a mental note to immensely thank Liam for an excellent choice in sandwiches. _Don’t save her, she don’t wanna be saved_ boomed and he wondered if Zayn would know who was the artist. Who was he kidding? Of course, Zayn knew and most likely whoever he was, was at the party right now. This was a G party, to use Harry’s words when they had spotted Jay-Z, Kanye and Wiz Khalifa laughing together.

“Thanks for the wedding invite,” she said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“No problem. Ma’s going to be excited to see you, the family.”

“My mom remembered you.”

Niall paused, mid-chew in his bacon sandwich. “What? How? She has amnesia.”

“When I delivered the wedding invitation, she asked whose wedding and I said your mom’s. And she said, ‘Ah, the Irish!’” Lottie smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “I didn’t think she would remember you, you met her _once_.”

Niall ducked his head down. It was not fair, true, that Johannah remembered some guy but not her family, but it was what it was. “I’m sorry.”

Lottie waved him off. “We’re excited. Have you sorted everything out with the wedding plans?”

“Everything is down, like the big stuff is all sorted out, cathedral, venue, hotel, et cetera. I’m still working on finding a decent caterer.”

“It’s not that hard, actually. We found one pretty easily for Mom’s wedding to Dan.”

“When you’re with Harry, it is,” he told her, grunting lightly. “Honestly, each caterer we’ve been through, he has managed to find something wrong with their food. Or _where_ they prepare their food. I’m starting to wonder if we’ll even find a company to his liking.”

Lottie chuckled. “That was Haz when my brother asked him to help with finding a venue for Mom’s wedding. It took ages until he asked Fiz and I to accompany Haz. Think he was done for.”

“I tried duping Gemma into it but she laughed at me and hang up.”

 “Get Zayn,” she suggested, with a twinkle in her eye. “What else are boyfriends for?”

Niall laughed around a mouthful of his sandwich. “He’s designing my Ma’s wedding dress, so can’t ask him to. I think I’ll ask—”

“Wait! Hold up, he is?”

Niall nodded with a sense of pride.

“That’s sick!”

Niall beamed. “I don’t even know how it happened. My Ma was showing Zayn some ideas for the wedding gown she had in mind, along with Eleanor, and Zayn suggested he could sketch a dress for her adding some cool stuff onto her dress, something she wanted and next thing I knew, he was officially designing it.”

“Where was he when Mom was getting married?” said Lottie. “You know your mom is going to be gorgeous on the day.”

Niall smiled at the compliment, unable to produce words. “Um,” he cleared his throat, “will you be at the wedding?”

“Course I will.”

“Everyone?”

She shook her head. “Just me, Fiz and the twins. Dad’s going to stay back at home with the twins.”

“I wish Jay could be there,” said Niall. “Ma would love to meet her.”

“It’s not safe.”

“I know.” He was deflated. “Louis can come, too, you know. It’s my Ma’s wedding, not mine.”

“But you two aren’t speaking.”

“I’m not that mean,” he said. “I may not like your brother but I wouldn’t want him to not attend the wedding. Besides, Harry’s RSVP had a plus one.”

“So he’ll be there?” she asked, more to herself. “Good.”

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

“Could he stare harder?”

“I think he could.”

“He’s going to burn holes on Liam’s back.”

“Or burn his head right off with the glares.”

Niall turned around and sent daggers to Willie and Eleanor who had been standing right behind him. “Shut up!”

“You’re not actually jealous about Liam?” wondered Eleanor, genuinely. Niall remained quiet.

“The answer is yes,” said Willie.

“Liam is as straight as an arrow.”

“And Zayn is smoking hot, in case you’re blind,” Willie countered to Eleanor.

Niall continued staring across the vast garden swimming-with-movers-and-shakers where Zayn was laughing along with Liam, Wiz Khalifa and Snoop Dogg, knowing all the words to _I hustle with vultures late nights, y’all muthafuckers woulda been food_. He looked on closely, seeing Wiz Khalifa smoke a blunt and once more, before passing it to Zayn, standing to his right. He brought the spliff between his rosy lips, his eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled. Niall’s jaw dropped as Zayn held the smoke in, his jaw sharp, lips curled beautifully and—

“Honestly, Niall, stop staring so hard. I bet Liam can feel the heat from here.”

“The hottest person at this party, minus Eva Longoria,” insisted Willie and Eleanor rolled her eyes because, really, we moved on from this conversation, thank you very much.

“Since when does Payno know the words to _H.A.M._?” he scowled offhandedly.

“Since when do _you_ know it was _H.A.M._?” Willie questioned.

“Since watching _Project X_ on date night.”

“Can we stop saying the word ‘since’?” Niall said, squinting his eyes at the group with his boyfriend, puff, puff and passing.

“Why were you with them on date night?” asked Willie to Eleanor, still standing behind Niall.

“I wasn’t. I came home from my date night to find Niall singing along to H.A.M. No joke,” she added when Willie’s jaw dropped. “He was rapping word-for-word I thought he switched bodies with Zayn.”

“So this whole time we’ve been saying we should have a jam sesh of the good ol’ Jay-Z days, The Game, whatever, you’ve been frontin’?”

Niall rolled his eyes, choosing not to answer Willie. He was still looking, not glaring, at his boyfriend’s clique, sharing weed and happily rapping _fuck the pig, no pork on my fork_ word for word.

That date night Zayn had roped him into watching _Project X_ (though roped was a strong word because Niall really would say yes to anything he asked, even if they watched a documentary on the horrible effects of desertification in some place in mid-USA (which they did and Niall was bored off his mind but he loved the TV effects from the documentary)) enjoying Chicken and sweet corn pie and he ended loving the movie that they had a _Project X_ marathon and by the fourth time, he knew the words to the one Eminem song and _H.A.M._

“Are you guys going to keep talking behind my back like a couple of weirdos?” asked Niall, not really expecting an answer.

“You’re staring at Zayn like he is the only meat left at a buffet.”

“Bon appétit, baby,” chuckled Eleanor. Niall busied himself with the Guinness in his hand. “Besides, Liam is straight, very, very straight. He’s the most straight person I have met in my life.”

Niall agreed, silently. But that changed nothing, it was Liam after all. Liam, who could seduce both sexes with his bright smiles, earthy eyes, lovely _personality_ and you would not know what hit you (Liam, probably with his lovely personality)… nonetheless, that was Liam, the Accidental Seducer.

“And I was saying he is the hottest one at this party, can turn anyone gay,” said Willie.

“I’m not jealous,” said Niall. “I’m just… looking. I trust him, anyway.”

“He better not try anything. He won’t anyway,” said Willie and Niall’s skin crawled. He turned around to look at his cousin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Willie and Eleanor exchanged looks, then looked back at Niall with a malevolent smile painted on his lips. “We simply informed him not to have… wandering eyes.”

Niall’s eyes popped out of his face. “ _What?_ Why would you do that?”

“Come off it, Nini,” sighed Eleanor. “Zayn’s a dece guy, we know that,” she and Willie nodded at each other, “but the guy has a reputation of… cheating, for lack of a better word.”

“We had the cheating talk,” insisted Niall.

“We all had the talk with him, just in case he forgot _your_ talk,” said Willie, casually. Too casual for Niall’s liking.

“We?”

“All of us,” smiled Eleanor, too happily for his liking.

“Oh balls, what did you tell him?”

Willie hung his arm around Niall’s shoulders. “Nothing for you to worry about. But, just in case he does, he’ll never see the light of day.”

“Or use his cock anymore as he pleases,” added Eleanor. “You should’ve heard what Greg told him.” She burst out laughing, even before ending her sentence and Willie joined in, wheezing and bulking forward.

Niall simply watched his best mates laughing together, then sparing a glance at Zayn having a chat with the other three males, he smiled to himself. He was not a fool in love, he was close but not quite. He was not completely blinded by it, but he knew Zayn, knew he was a cheater but it felt wrong to label him as ‘once a cheater, always a cheater’ because while he knew the pain of being cheated on (fuck you very much, Holly) he also believed in people learning from their mistakes.

Nevertheless, he was grateful for his mates for looking out for him.

“Thanks, guys,” he told them. They had calmed down from their laughing and were now smiling. “You didn’t have to but. Thank you.”

“What do you mean, didn’t have to?” exclaimed Willie. “Of course we did. We’re friends, even better, family, so no way in hell are we going to let some Arab boy waltz into your life and leave you hurt.”

Niall rolled at the reference. Zayn had been right, his entire family always called him ‘Arab boy’ even if he, multiple times (with Zayn shyly correcting them he was not) told them he was not Arab but. Nothing. He was known, famously, as the Arab boy.

“Ditto, Nini,” squealed Eleanor and threw her arms around him, holding him tight. “You’re our little leprechaun, we can’t lose you.”

“Even though she be little,” mused Niall, still in Willie and Eleanor’s embrace, “she be fierce.”

“Is that a quote?” asked Willie.

“Besides,” said Niall, wanting to add something in, “Zayn would never cheat on me, not because I know he loves me, well, that too, but not only that. I told him I’ll do him worse than just burn his house down.”

“I wish I was there, man,” chuckled Willie. “I honestly would’ve wanted to see all the snakes. I didn’t believe Liam when he was telling me until Zayn pulled out his phone with photos— _OMG!_ There she is!”

Niall and Eleanor spun so fast on the spot, looking in the direction that had Willie’s mouth hanging open. It was Eva Longoria, walking towards the bar in her bright, tight bikini, and then ordering for a drink.

“Bye guys!”

Niall squawked. “Leaving us for a woman?” Niall yelled at his back, few heads turning to him. “What friendship is this? What happened to loyalty, you ass!?”

Eleanor was snickering beside him. “She _is_ hot.” They were both now openly looking at Willie approach Eva, and much to their surprise, she looked interested as he introduced himself. “I give it 30 minutes before she’s uncomfortable.”

“Ha. More like 15 minutes.”

Wanting to see who would win the bet, they sat themselves down at a place where they could view the happenings. Niall was idly drinking his Guinness (making sure he did not pass four bottles because he was not the one getting drunk today but Zayn) and Eleanor munching on Skittles, bopping their heads to _O-o-o-o-o-okay, Lamborghini Mercy (swerve), Your chick, she so thirsty (swerve)_.

“Hey, do you think Danielle and Payno are dating?” he inquired. He was asking everyone, really.

“No. Why are you asking? Did you hear something?”

“Saw something.”

She popped several Skittles into her mouth. “What?”

“Her and Payno were… close,” he said as he narrowed his eyes at his best cousin. He was waving his arms theatrically as Eva had a confused expression on her tanned face. “Too close for people who had once dated and are now friends.”

“Liam hasn’t said much.”

“Danielle was trying her best to not blush when I talked about Payno going back to playing in the Premier League now that the season has started,” explained Niall. “It was kinda funny, really, but that was obvious right?”

“Because she blushed?”

Niall twisted his head and levelled Eleanor with a look. “Yes.”

“Maybe they don’t know they’re dating. Like how you were with Zayn.”

“What?”

“In the beginning, it was—oh!” She sat up, some Skittles dropping from her hand to the table, as an idea struck her. “It’s skinny love. It was skinny love with you and Zayn and now it’s with Danielle and Liam.”

Niall did not know what ‘skinny love’ meant nor did he comment about his relationship with Zayn as he wanted to make a point about Danielle and Liam. “So you believe me? Are they together? _Payzer’s_ back together?”

“I’ll need to stalk them now, on top of stalking Drake, avoiding Louis’ entire family, seeing if Willie is making a fool of himself,” said Eleanor, then huffed and puffed for dramatics. “Liam knows how to throw a party.”

“Hey.” He drank his Guinness. “Would it be weird if I have ninja turtle sex with Zayn?”

Eleanor blinked. “That’s the weirdest question you’ve asked this week.” She threw a couple of Skittles into her mouth and her eyes flow to Willie across at the party.

“Listen, El,” Niall said, looking away from Zayn to her, “I’m not defending him, I don’t condone cheating at all, but he explained why he cheated on Perrie, on everyone before Perrie. And I understood where he was coming from, well as much as I could, but I promise you, I’m doing my best to be better than all the bitches before.” The corner of Eleanor’s mouth tugged up. “I’m a ride or die bitch.” He heard it as soon as he said it and cringed so hard, he could not take the words back.

Eleanor snorted a laugh. “You’re going to stick with that or change it?”

Niall matched her smile. “I’ll keep it.”

“So… you’re Zayn’s bitch?” tried Eleanor and Niall rolled his eyes.

“Fine, ride or die boyfriend,” he huffed. He got up from his seat, saying, “Keep an eye on Willie,” and walked off, leaving a laughing Eleanor behind.

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

Niall could not think as his body was pressed to the wall of one of the humongous rooms in the North Wing of the mansion, Zayn’s hands on his tanned, bare hips, licking into his mouth. Niall moaned in his mouth, his hands palming his stubble opening himself up for him, their tongues dancing together to _if I die today it’s yours, if you want it all I give it to you_ seeping through the thick walls. Niall chased his lips when Zayn was peppering his lips with nothing more than a brush—

“Zayn!” he whined and Zayn laughed on his lips.

“When you brought me back inside the house,” he bit hard on Niall’s bottom lip, “I thought we’d be stuck in a dark room, with your hands in my jeans not exploring the different rooms.”

Niall rolled his eyes as he locked the bedroom door. For nearly the past hour, they had gone exploring the different rooms within the mansion, finding the cellar, drawing room, other types of rooms that were honestly too many. Other rooms Niall should not have opened enthusiastically as he did what with the rooms having been occupied, heavily occupied, he might add, from the sounds and smells that hit his face, and each time Zayn would be snickering loudly behind him.

“If you think we’re having sex, you’re out of your mind.”

“Why not?” Zayn whined from the bed, where he was laying.

“Because Payno will _know_ and it’ll be weird,” said Niall.

“Pretty sure us having sex isn’t creepy. We all caught each other more than twice wanking in Bus One.”

Niall joined Zayn on the bed, who was now staring up at the shiny chandelier. “What are you thinking about?”

Zayn merely shrugged. He heaved himself up on his elbows and pushed himself back, then laid his head on Niall’s lap. His amber eyes gazed up, meeting ocean eyes, and he could not help but smile, his knuckles lightly brushing underneath Niall’s chin.

“I love you,” Zayn breathed.

Niall had been the first one to say those three words and it happened at the oddest of times. They had gone out on a Sunday afternoon, Theo in tow, and had found, in the rare heat of London, an ice-cream stand. Zayn could not decide on which flavour, Theo and himself having chosen theirs and were waiting for him to decide. Niall teased him for being so indecisive when it came to _which_ chocolate ice-cream.

Zayn had rolled his eyes, groaning that there were _four_ chocolate flavours to choose from and he said that if he did not choose in three minutes they would leave him there. Ten minutes later, he was still there, his ice-cream halfway done and Theo off playing in the playground with other children. He was done with his ice-cream and he ordered for all the chocolate flavours because Zayn seemed genuinely at a loss of _which_ ice-cream flavour and if he suggested one chocolate flavour, he had a kicked-puppy look because _what of the others?_

“You’re an idiot,” Zayn had smiled at him, then laughed.

It was honestly one of the things he loved most about his boyfriend, the kind of laugh he could listen to for the rest of his life. Zayn was “lazily dressed” in sweats, hair so messy from his siesta and he still was gorgeous and perfect and unprecedented and precious and in that moment he knew he loved him more than anyone else he had ever loved. In that moment, Niall knew Zayn was his once in a lifetime and the crazy thing was that Zayn was simply enjoying his four flavours of chocolate ice-cream.

Not only did he say those three words, finally having to stop lying when he said, ‘I like you a lot’ when he really meant ‘I love you’ but when he said those words, he farted. Loud and long. Zayn stilled in their kiss, as Niall’s farting continued and for the love of all that was good and pure, why, oh why, did he have to fart? At this moment?

So that was how it came to be known – Niall farted during one of their monumental moments but that did not stop Zayn from saying the words back, and from showing him all night long just how much he loved Niall (at least he did not fart during sex!).

Niall held his wrist, kissing on his pulse point. “I love you.” Zayn hummed like a happy cat. “You don’t look drunk.”

“Got high instead.”

“Weed?”

Zayn popped one eye open. “What is it?”

“I just thought you said you were into weed anymore? And you got thinner?...” he said, letting his sentence hang.

“I didn’t have control of my life then,” explained Zayn, “and I’m fine now. I can control myself.”

On the bed, they switched. Niall settled himself on Zayn’s stomach with Zayn still looking up at the chandelier.

It was his favourite part of Zayn’s body, really. Sure he had the cheekbones to love or his long, long eyelashes or his eyebrows or basically any part of his body but nope, the stomach won. Slightly above his belly button, right there was his sweet spot and often he loved laying his head there and sleeping for days. At first it was weird, with Zayn gently pushing him off his stomach but with Niall’s persistence and persuasion that involved a lot of chocolate-covered strawberries and packets of Dunhills, Zayn obliged and it became Niall’s spot.

“Weed, huh?” inquired Niall, attempting casual. He had his hand laid lazily on his upper chest, above the winged tattoo.

 “Yeah…”

“So you smoked it up with your pals?” he asked and he was trying not to cringe at his voice straining and streaking with bitterness. “Or do you call it ‘ganja’ or ‘blunt’ or—or ‘Pot’ or ‘Grass’ but no one says that anymore, right? ‘Herbs’ or is that too _white_ to say? I think it’s ‘loud’… or that’s something else?” he was been rambling, he knew it, and Zayn did not stop it but felt his stomach shaking his head with giggles.

There was a pregnant pause before Zayn was asking, “Do you want to smoke weed, Habibi?”

“Niall doesn’t do drugs.”

He could hear the eye roll as Zayn said, “Weed isn’t coke.”

“Did you smoke some crack cocaine with Wiz, Snoop and Payno?” he asked. It seemed, now, that Niall’s middle name was not, in fact, James, no, Sir, it was Petty.

“Were you watching me?”

“No,” he replied, too quickly. He nuzzled his face into Zayn’s stomach as Zayn’s hand made its way into his cotton hair, gently combing it.

“Coke is pretty strong.”

Niall sharply breathed in Zayn’s tank top. “You’ve done coke?”

“With Harry at the start of the Up All Night tour and we…”

Niall was mouthing repeatedly, ‘What the fuck?’ as his eyes grew as wide as golf balls. What had Zayn been up to in One Direction? And where the fuck was he when Zayn had apparently been window shopping designer drugs and trying them out like it was 2007?

Where. Was. He?

“What else?”

“I tried opiates which was a horrible idea, trust me, it’s the worst. I’d rather have done coke ten times in a row than do opiates again.”

“Who were you with?” he asked, curious.

“Harry, again. That shit said he knew a guy who knew a guy that honestly looked like he was born homeless and has never moved from the streets.”

“Did you get a bad batch?” wondered Niall aloud.

“Nope. Apparently, that’s opiates for you,” said Zayn and Niall asked for more. “Real MDMA was bad for me. I had, like, horrible hallucinations the whole night and I don’t know how to explain it but I felt intense colours.”

“You felt intense colours?” parroted Niall, laughter in his throat. “Wait, what is MDMA?”

“Ecstasy. But yeah and, like, I got to know why I am the way I am, and it was a life change that I’ve done it plenty of times.”

And so the list went on, drugs Niall had never even heard of, the sounds of _I get a feelin’ it’s a trippy night, them other drugs just don’t fit me right_ mellow and glowing around them.

There was candy flipping, codeine (“Would not encourage this, got addicted to it for like 4 months!” “Addicted?” “It helped me go through some mental shit I was going through and I was basically high off my life!”), DXM, LSD (“Who can say no to psychedelics?”), Shrooms, heroin (“The withdrawals are the worst” “Why?” “It’s so bad, I was always nauseated and felt like I had cramps and I couldn’t bear the pain so I was back on it!”), Benzos (“Don’t even bother, you feel nothing different…”), morphine, 3meo and how could he forget giving one the best high but can turn horrible very easily, then there was Ket, speed (“I was always hyper which was weird”) and on and on Zayn went listing the designer drugs he had tried during his time with One Direction (most of the adventures done with Harry).

And to say that Niall was a little intimidated, okay, _a lot_ , was well, correct. His ‘weakest’ drug he had ever tried was alcohol and the hardest, still, ‘alcohol.’ However, there was that one time he tried weed but he did not like the taste nor smell nor the ‘puff puff pass’ ritual. Secretly, he had been watching Harry and the boys try out drugs in the bus, outside Paul’s peering eyes and would make himself scarce when the bags came out and it was time to try out this or that and Niall was just not feeling it.

His boyfriend had tried all this and he was ashamed to admit he had only done alcohol (he does not count weed because he did not even finish half a blunt or spliff or whatever it was called) and here he was, experienced with everything.

“So cool.”

It sounded dead and weak to his eyes, so much so Zayn noticed. He gently pushed Niall off his stomach and they sat facing each other, Zayn taking his boyfriend’s hands in his, his thumb brushing on his knuckles that had Niall red from his cheeks down to his bare chest. He should not have taken off his tank top.

“What is it? Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just.” He looked down at where Zayn was thumbing his knuckles. “It’s really nothing. Dumb. That’s what it is. Means nothing. Why don’t we eat cake, huh?”

“Niall.”

“Why did no one ask me?” His voice was octaves higher, his eyes clenching shut. “It bothers me sometimes.”

“Hey,” Zayn bent his head down, cupping Niall’s cheeks and bringing his head up. “Hey, hey, hey, Habibi, no need to be upset.”

“Like, how long would it take me to smoke weed with Snoop Dogg? And Payno? And those fellas? And Future? And…” he went on and on listing the different Hip-Hop artists that he only knew by name until Zayn stop him in his rambling by sucking on his bottom lip.

“Niall, I don’t care that we’re on different sides, different friends because at the end of the day, I want you. Always you.”

“I see you with them, with Liam and Wiz and Kanye and—and Harry, even, and I think, ‘Maybe he’s happier with him, with them.’ and I’m holding you back.”

Zayn frowned deeply. He cupped his cheek firmly and held his gaze. “Habibi, listen to me. “You’re the one I want, the one I love, the only one. Sure, I get jealous, too, seeing you with those footballers and they’ve got these big muscles and you have lots to laugh with and about. Yes, I was watching you too,” Zayn smirked at Niall’s surprise. “But I know at the end of the day, we have each other.”

Zayn’s fingertips trailed down Niall’s arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps and shivers.

“If you want to mark me as yours, litter my skin with traces of you, love bites on all the places everyone can see, go ahead, I don’t mind—in fact, I love it. I love walking around showing off that you’re mine, showing everyone that I’m yours.

“You’re the only one who's been up my ass, the only one who's made me come so hard till I passed out, the one who knows where to touch, how to touch, licking the right spots that get me hot and heavy… so wet for you,” – Niall all but swallowed a moan, Zayn’s husky voice going straight to his cock – “the only one who makes me come so many times and makes it fucking last,” he practically moaned, “and the only one I would hold out for ages and ages because I trust you, I trust you so much, love you so much and yes, it does scare me but I believe in us.”

“Sometimes I see how different we are and…” he let his sentence peter out and he looked over to see Zayn with a knowing smile.

“Like what are we doing?” he ended and they both laughed. “Sometimes but I love that we’re so different and sometimes I’m happy that we are.”

“How?”

“With everyone I’ve been with, we had that instant connection that you have with someone or that instant spark,” he chuckled and rolled his eyes at Niall. “Now I sound cliché like you.”

“Those are awesome.”

“And it was great because we connected and our relationship was good but the connection passed quickly and we had nothing left. Then with others, we had so much in common that we were basically alike. We liked the same things, did the same things, I was never learning something new from the other person and we eventually became boring.”

Zayn squeezed his palms.

“But with us, we are like soup.”

“Soup?” questioned Niall. He did not know how he felt about it, comparing their relationship to soup.

“We are like soup that heats over time. We are like that as we got to learn each other, discover each other with a blank page with so much against us – the hiatus contract, paying off Simon if I kept in contact, people hating us cause we’re gay and shit – but we did and we’re still here. So if you think that smoking weed with Snoop, me having a laugh with Drake because he happened to have funny bulldog videos, you’re mistaken. I’ll want you, I choose you over and over.”

Niall breathed in, Zayn’s eyes hot on him, and then out his mouth. “… I’ll still be jealous.”

“I love that you’re jealous; shows that you care,” he said, lips on Niall’s. He smacked their lips together, biting on his bottom lip and pulling. He let it go with a pop, running his tongue over it and softly kissing him. “Now,” he announced getting off the bed, “can we please go for food? I don’t think I’ve eate—”

Niall grabbed his red shirt by the collar and pulled him to himself, crushing their lips together. Their teeth clashed painfully so Niall cupped Zayn’s chiselled jaw, the rough feel of his beard a heaven feel to his hand, and snogged him senseless.

Kissing Zayn was addictive, still. Often at times, he would get bored of kissing, it was repetitive, lost its spark and most importantly, kissing became boring but not with Zayn. With Zayn, his entire body sparkled, from his head down to his toes, his hands hot with touching Zayn’s body underneath his clothes.

He felt Zayn’s hot wet tongue drag on his own, moaning shamelessly and his thighs hugging Zayn’s waist. Nobody kissed like Zayn did, no one because he was a world class kisser. He snogged him with intensity, his lips bruised and red and numb from the biting and the licking and _Zayn’s delicious lips_. For someone who said no sex, he sure was _there_ already.

Niall parted their lips, throwing his head back, gasping in air. Zayn sunk his teeth on the red column of his neck, biting and nibbling like he was a fucking snack. He sighed his name, breathless and needy and hot and pulled Zayn’s tank top, exposing his back to the warm air of the room.

“Thank you.”

“For?” he asked, or more like breathed into Zyan’s ear.

“Future.”

Niall’s jaw slackened, Zayn tonguing the bruised mark on the end of his neck. Zayn hovered above him, smug and humble at the same time.

“I met Future at the bar and he said you told him we love his Honest album. Said you’re a catch,” he added, his cheeks a lovely deep red shade.

Niall beamed at his boyfriend. He had been chatting with Gemma (Harry with his hawk eyes noticing them together and tagging along or hanging near them) when he spotted Future at the corner with Nicki Minaj. He dragged Gemma by the elbow and introduced himself to Future, stating how Zayn was a fan and one thing led to another, both Future and Nicki Minaj promised they would collab with Zayn on Zayn’s second album because they loved his vibe.

“… and album!”

“Sick, right?” he inquired, not having heard what his boyfriend said. Nor seen Zayn straddling his lap.

“You’re too good, Habibi,” Zayn mumbled to his milky skin. “Can… I?” His hand above his crotch, shy and unsure, chewing on his bottom lip. “Please.”

Niall licked his lips, chasing the taste of Zayn on them. “No sex.”

Zayn literally glowed above Niall at the permission he was floored by it. He honestly should _always_ say yes to Zayn. Zayn pushed his palm to his hard nipples, his tongue lapping on his dark trail, kissing up and down on it before sucking his belly button.

Niall was a bundle of laughter, his hands pushing Zayn away from his funny spot. “Every damn time, Snookums!”

“I love it when you laugh. When we laugh…” he trailed off his sentence as he reached for Niall’s waistband for his swimming shorts. But before he asked him to sit on the edge of the bed and Zayn was kneeling before him, his hands on Niall’s fuzzy, naked thighs, his cock bopping to his stomach, wet and shiny.

“I want to look at you,” he explained, his hands on Niall’s inner thighs, littering his cock with feather kisses.

Zayn’s licked his lips, Niall following the movement with laboured breathing, _shawty wanna lick me like a lollipop, so I let her lick the rapper like a lollipop_ somehow a soundtrack for them. He made a noise in the back of his throat as Zayn swallowed him whole the first time, his tongue warm and wet on his throbbing cock. Zayn slurped and sucked and licked and moaned around his cock, the whole time neither of them looking away from each other, Niall being sucked onto the edge with the filthy noises Zayn’s throat was making, his hand and mouth bopping up and down on him.

Niall moaned his name several times in a row, the long length of his neck arched back in ecstasy with Zayn moaning around his cock. Then stopped. He heavily breathed and then looked down at Zayn, innocently looking back at him until his mouth fucking smirked around his cock and continued to suck him like a popsicle, giving a jiggle to his sweaty balls.

Two, three jerks and the head of his cock hitting the back of Zayn’s throat for the first time ever, had him coming inside Zayn’s naughty lips, his hands no longer able to hold him when his body waved with white hot bliss and falling back onto the bed with a glorified moan.

Zayn licked off Niall on his lips, taking his Bob Marley shirt to wipe off come drooling down his beard, his left hand on Niall’s naked knee.

“You’re so gorgeous.”

Zayn’s eyes twinkled, tongue-behind-his-teeth smiling up at Niall from the floor where he was sitting. “I love the taste of you.” Niall looked down cheeks and neck shiny red. “C’mon, Habibi.” Niall stood, Zayn dressing him back in his swimming shorts and kissing him on his lips when he stood up too.

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

“So, do you think that Danielle and Payno are dating?” inquired Niall, as casual as possible.

Niall and Zayn had re-joined the party, Zayn feeling massively hungry, and made their way down to the garden, and Zayn, feeling light and floaty and because _why not_ , they made their way into the large castle-like bouncy castle.

They settled nicely in one of the corners of the black and yellow bouncy castle, their plates of food on their lap (with their ankles threaded together), and canned cold drinks by their side. Niall was having two large burgers with lots and lots of pickles (that had Zayn gagging at him) and a side of New York fries whereas his boyfriend opting for a club sandwich with golden yellow onion rings (which Niall stared at him for, hoping his stare would make him change his mind). The music was playing around them, something that Niall had never heard of until Zayn helpfully told him it was Kid Ink which Niall immediately asked, _who the fuck is that wanker?_

“Why do you think they’re dating?” asked Zayn, curious. He licked the BBQ sauce off his thumb. He did not see Niall drooling at the action.

“Because… uh…” Niall blinked out of his staring. “I saw them close.”

“Close?”

“Very,” he said with a mouthful of his first burger. “Like they were intimate.”

“You’re doing that voice that you have when we have the Sex Talk,” said Zayn, grimaced, then took a large bite out of his sandwich. “My dick will fall off one of these days, wallahi.”

“I’ll glue it back on with my semen.”

Zayn choked on his sandwich as Niall's eyes popped open slowly as he winced not only inwardly but on the outside, too.

“Can we put an end to this conversation?”

And Niall has never nodded so fast in his life. As he opened his eyes, his past played hauntingly through the booming speakers. For the first time since his arrival, he had not known _who_ had been playing but now he knew and only because he embarrassed himself when it had played and it had been with Zayn. The times of ‘siesta cuisine’, whatever the hell that was. So as _I’m just living life, and let my mama tell it I living right_ played, he was all embarrassed smiles.

“What are you smiling so hard at?”

“This song.”

Zayn’s eyes look to the roof of the bouncy castle and he giggled. “You said this was your favourite song when you had come over for a siesta cuisine. Completely bullshit!”

“I must admit siesta cuisine was but… I also bullshitted about knowing Rae.”

He smiled knowingly that had Niall widening his eyes. “I figured.”

He looked scandalized. “How? I made a good impression on knowing this song very well.”

Zayn swallowed his sandwich before pointedly rolling his eyes at him. “You couldn’t have fooled a blind person, Habibi.”

“Yeah, well,” he took a drink of canned beer, “I wanted you to like me.”

With his middle finger underneath Niall’s chin, Zayn titled it up just so and pressed their lips together. “I would’ve liked you even without it. I did meet you and you played Troye Sivan.”

“That’s because you checked my most recent songs.”

“I don’t care that you don’t really fancy Rae, or the artists I like, Habibi, I like you just the way you are. With your Troye Sivans and Harry Potters and _Love, Actually_ .”

“Be still my beating heart,” responded Niall, nervously laughing, but on the inside he was _feeling_ those words, whispering them to his pounding heart he swore Zayn could hear, louder than Rae rapping _I ain’t got no type, bad bitches is the only thing that I like_.

“… so… I got a penis piercing.”

Niall deeply frowned into his burger, then narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend who was waiting in silence for his reaction. Niall put his burger back on his paper plate. “So you said you had a penis… piercing?” Zayn nodded. “You pierced your male genitalia?”

“What did I say about _that_ voice?” grunted Zayn. “I got it done yesterday.”

Niall’s eyes popped again. “When?”

“Jawaad and I went out – never taking meth again – and I lost a dare. So I got a piercing. It’s not bad… I hear the sex is great.”

Niall felt his cock twitch underneath his swimming shorts. “Was it painful?”

“Not so much. I feel good though, I have a penis piercing,” he grinned like a little boy.

“As soon as it heals, you’re fucking me good, long and numb,” breathed Niall. Zayn chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes twinkling mysteriously. “Is it bad that I’m so turned on right now?”

“Talk in your Sex Talk voice, it’ll do the trick,” said Zayn, desperately. They shared a smile. “I have something else to tell you… but after the party.”

“What is it?”

“Later, Habibi.”

“C’mon, Zaynie Pie,” Niall pouted.

“I thought we were done with nicknames?”

“Well, Zayzay…”

“Pouting never works,” Zayn mumbled then swallowed.

“Snookums…”

“Later, _Neil_.”

Niall harrumphed. “Fine. Changing subjects. If you went on a date—”

“With you?”

“No.”

“I don’t know if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“M’not. So if you went on a date, wouldn’t you pick salad as the entrée?”

Zayn stopped mid-chew to stare at Niall. Minutes of silence passed between them with Zayn wondering if they were really having this conversation and this had to be the weirdest random question Niall had asked him. He resumed eating.

Niall began poking Zayn in the ribs, saying, “C’mon, Niaz Kilam, I’m actually asking, wouldn’t you pick salad?”

“No.”

“Why? There are so many advantages to salad.”

“Love to hear them.”

Niall did not hear the bland sarcasm and took Zayn’s words for what they were. “One is that it’s good for your colon, two, it keeps you energetic, three, it doesn’t scream _date_ lessening the pressure of a first date, and most of all, imagine all the salad dressings you get to add onto your salad. And you know what else?”

“You can bring a friend to your first date and it won’t feel like a date, either.” Then Zayn cursed because he was not meant to contribute to the puzzling conversation that honestly had no start nor end… but it was ending either way. “I think Gemma was looking for you earlier.”

“So?”

“So?” he parroted as he was finishing his sandwich.

“Before I make my argument better, salad is better for a first date than something heavy like beef or duck or something  small like coffee.”

“Coffee is tricky.” And dammit, there he went again, contributing to the conversation.

“How?” asked Niall, drinking his Guinness.

“Well, coffee usually leads to sex… at times… most of the time. Are you going to eat your burger?”

Niall shook his head and handed it to him. “Halal.”

“Liam told me you asked him to make sure everything was halal,” he smiled at him gratefully.

He looked down to his lap as a response. He cleared his throat, turning the can of Guinness on his leg, resuming their conversation. “In the morning?”

“Sex takes place at any time, Niall. Just because you’ve always had—”

“Back to salad,” reminded Niall, talking above Zayn who was taking the many onion rings off Niall’s burger, “would you?”

“No because salad dates are weird. Been on dates with girls who only ordered salad and stared at my plate the entire time.”

Niall chuckled. “That’s one way to look at it. Maybe they wanted to keep fit. Another advantage of salad.”

“All this talk about salad and you have no ounce of salad on your burger,” Zayn pointed out.

“Salad is for rabbits.”

“So you’ve been defending salad this whole time when you wouldn’t even touch it?”

Niall shrugged.

“Anyway, changing topics, have you picked on a single yet?”

Niall pursed his lips. “Elena is really on my back to pick one – if Steve texting me is anything to go by.”

“Why are you so conflicted? You said _Slow Hands_ or _Texas_ are where you play the guitar the most and you love any song that has guitar.”

Niall smiled, more to himself, that Zayn remembered then it was wiped off his mouth. He did not want to be _that_ person, those people who wrote entire albums for their significant other, their better half because it was cheesy and dumb and he wanted to puke rainbows at it (and secretly he loved those cliché persons because _same_ ).

His eyes travelled to Zayn uncapping his Sprite bottle.

But those people had never dated Zayn Malik – _The_ Zayn Malik. They dated ordinary Joe’s and plain Jane’s but not Greek god Zayn’s. It was almost a privilege to be with him, by him. In the moment, he decided his next single would be about Zayn. Great. But _which_ song? So far, only _Treat You Better_ was about Zayn, the others about his hook-ups, but the song did not have the touch he was looking for, it did not scream _I LOVE ZAYN._ Okay, maybe it did but it was subtle. Too subtle for his taste, anyway.

“I’m writing a song with Ed Sheeran,” he decided, only realizing he had said it out loud. Zayn quirked an eyebrow in question his way.  “For my next single.”

“Didn’t you say that you’re going to debut it at the Teen Choice in a couple of weeks?”

“We’ve basically started,” he lied smoothly, “just need to write the bridge.”

He was almost sure Ed would not turn him down for a songwriting opportunity and word on the street was (or _word on the studio_ ) that Ed was a machine. He wrote a song within hours – three tops while everyone took days, or worse, months because they did not know how to finish the song or find the right sound for it. Not Ed, he did everything in those hours and the song was a masterpiece, I mean _18_ , _Little Things_ and the countless romantic movie soundtracks, that Niall was sure they would write the song dedicated to Zayn within a week, tops.

“Will you let me listen to it?”

Niall shook his head. “This one’s a surprise.”

Zayn pouted and Niall braced himself for a lot of pleading and wide eyes and jutted pink bottom lips that honestly make his heart weak but not this time, not this time.

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

 “Liam’s about to cut the cake, can this wait, babe?” asked Harry.

It was cake-cutting time and the party was ushered to the cleaner part of the back garden. As everyone was singing _Happy birthday to you_ , _happy birthday to you_ Harry found Gemma who was with Niall and told them that Louis was looking for all of them. Well, that part was exaggerated as Louis had been looking for just Harry and Niall to help search for Zayn.

“What do you mean search for Zayn?” burst Niall. “Where is he?”

Louis ran his hands down his face. They were locked in one of the many, many bedrooms in Liam’s mansion and they could each faintly hear the birthday song being sung from inside the bedroom. Louis inhaled sharply, stopping abruptly his pacing up and down and looked on at the three of them.

“What is it, babe?” asked Harry. “You’re starting to scare me.”

“Before I say what I’m about to say, I need you three to know that I don’t have any hard feelings towards Zayn.”

“He really doesn’t,” Harry voiced.

“Suspicious how you’re quick to defend him,” said Niall between clenched teeth.

Louis inhaled deeply before explaining why he summoned the three of them. “Earlier, after our shots with Liam, I came downstairs and was really enjoying the party. I found myself in a karaoke sing-off with some Arsenal guys and we were drinking and singing and having a good time. Suddenly Alex came into the room, fuming and shouting.”

“Shouting about what?” asked Gemma.

“I don’t know.” Louis scratched the back of his neck, his forehead filled with worried lines. “I was partly pissed but he said, ‘How dare Zayn talk to me like this!’ and a load of other shit I didn’t understand. But the more he talked the more I understood. He was mad at Zayn for warning him not to hurt Perrie.”

“What?” Niall voiced his surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Zayn apparently told Alex not to hurt Perrie.”

Niall’s fists clenched by his thighs. “Zayn didn’t talk to her.”

“Maybe he did, Ni,” said Gemma, rubbing his arm.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the action. “He has a boyfriend, Gemma.”

“Piss off, Harry!”

Harry huffed at his sister, crossing his hands over his chest asked his boyfriend to continue.

“I found myself telling them how Zayn betrayed me—us, the band by quitting and he was a real jerk about it.” Niall looked ready to kill and Louis quickly added, “ _But_ I had forgiven him for it, a long time ago. I could tell that Alex was still mad at Zayn because even when we continued singing karaoke, he wasn’t there.

“Before I told him that I forgave Zayn, he had said he wanted to teach Zayn a lesson, some lesson that he’ll never forget. I honestly thought he was joking but the more he talked about it, even the other Arsenal folks joined in, I realized he was serious and he was going to hurt Zayn. So it’s then when I said I forgave Zayn for leaving and we were cool.”

“You lied.”

“I am,” pleaded Louis. “I really don’t have an issue with Zayn for leaving the band.” Niall swallowed, not believe a word Louis is saying. “It’s you that’s the issue. You’re the problem, you’re the real traitor, not Zayn.”

“You’re taking a side trip, sweetie,” said Gemma.

Louis groaned, his hands covering his face. Outside, the party had finished singing the birthday song and _solo ride until I die, cause I got me for_ _life_ boomed through the thick 18 th Century walls.

“Where’s Zayn, babe?”

“I left the karaoke room and stayed close to Zayn, watching out for him, making sure he was safe and Alex’s gang did not get close to him. He was fine, anyway, because he was either with Niall or Liam at all times. But…”

Louis bowed his head, his nails digging into his hair. Harry walked over to his boyfriend, holding him tightly in his arms.

“But what Louis?” growled Niall.

“But I lost sight of him. You were with Gemma, Liam was with his Chelsea mates, Harry was with Kendall and Gigi, and I didn’t see Alex or Perrie anywhere. Not one Arsenal footballer was anywhere and I knew something was up.

“I checked the second floor, literally from the East Wing to West wing and the other wings, opening every bedroom, every bathroom, _every single room_ , including the small closets, but.” He leaned into Harry’s broad chest. “They were nowhere.”

“Why would they be there?” asked Gemma.

“Because that’s what they said. It was in their plan.”

Niall was now pacing, walking around, breathing in and out, deeply and heavily. His mind was reeling, going to worst case scenarios and he was slowly seeing red.

“What did you fucking do, Louis?”

“Nothing, I swear on it. It—they weren’t serious.”

“You think Alex wouldn’t do anything to Zayn? You think I’m to believe you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Zayn because of what he did last year?” screamed Niall. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m not lying. Not this time,” said Louis.

“He’s telling the truth, Niall. Promise.”

Niall groaned loudly, slamming his fist on the bed. “He’s a liar, always has been, always _will_.”

“Not true, Niall,” defended Harry. “He’s—”

“Are you seriously defending him when he’s the reason Alex is going berserk right now?”

“Boys!” The three members of the band stood still at Gemma’s icy voice. “Stop arguing. We need to find Zayn right now or—”

Gemma’s icy went over Niall’s back like water on a duck’s back. He was currently seeing red and when Niall’s blood was boiling, he was unstoppable.

“Why are you pissed at me? I didn’t leave the band. I didn’t hurt anyone nor did I steal money from—”

“Didn’t hurt anyone?” scoffed Louis, stepping aside from his boyfriend. “ _Didn’t hurt anyone?_ You almost killed me at the cemetery. I almost died, Niall. Think about that.”

“It was justified.”

“You had no right to come to Donny and speak to my mom,” yelled Louis. “You had no right to terminate the hiatus contract and talk to Zayn. You had no right to _contact_ Zayn. You had no right to be Zayn’s friend because the four of us had a deal. You had no right to walk away,” he ended, shouting.

Niall narrowed his eyes even more. “I didn’t leave.”

“Yes, you fucking did!” Louis pushed Niall back by his shoulders. “What happened to the deal we made when Zayn left the band? We’d be friends forever, it’d be the four of us but you left, Niall,” shouted Louis, closer to Niall now than before. “You who always cries to everyone about abandonment yet you go ahead and do the same bloody thing.”

“Because I broke a stupid pact?” yelled Niall, seething. Louis flinched and looked like he was going to hit Niall but did not. So Niall did. But Louis ducked, Harry stepping in to stop it and getting caught square in the jaw with Niall’s clenched knuckles. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Harry! Shit, fuck. I’m so, so sorry.”

“My jaw!” Harry groaned, cupping his jaw.

Niall was furiously apologizing but Harry was shaking his head at him, mumbling that he was fine and he needed some ice.

“I’ll get you some,” Gemma offered, worryingly looking at the sore, red spot on his cheek.

“I’m fine, promise,” said Harry, then swung his jaw, testing it. Louis turned back to Niall who schooled his features from looking worried at hitting Harry’s jaw to being on alert.

“It’s who you are, isn’t it? You take, take, take and walk away. You think about yourself first, always and then walk away. When someone does something you don’t like, you do.”

“Not true, Louis. When do I ever leave?” said Niall. He briefly looked to Louis’ right where Harry was still cupping his jaw, his brows squeezed together.

“It’s the reason why your Dad left, the reason Holly cheated, the reason you could never learn to have a relationship because you weren’t capable of love. You don’t know anything about love and that’s why you always end up alone bes—”

Louis was slapped. Silence enveloped the four of them, but around them _other hoes love me, you know how it is?_ playing. Niall’s eyes were wide open when he focused on Gemma, fuming furiously at Louis.

“Louis William Tomlinson, you fucking shut up!”

“I’m right,” huffed Louis, a hand on his cheek, angrily eyeing Niall. “It’s the reason people are scared of you, people stay away because you’re a murderer. You had your chance with me and you could’ve killed me and from that day no one’s been around because that’s who you really are, deep down, a monster that no one can love.”

“Louis,” Harry said, stepping before his boyfriend, “Stop it. You’ve said enough.” He wildly turned to Niall, his hand reached into their space but Niall was slowly shaking his head, face pale.

“Whatever you do or say unto me Louis, will not touch me.” Niall was frighteningly calm, the Styles siblings looking on with worry and Louis had stopped palming his burning cheek. “I’ve had years of experience of being left, of being people’s second choice, because from the beginning I learnt that people always left for something better but that isn’t true. You think I’m selfish now, that I’m incapable of love but only because I’ve learnt not to throw my heart around.” He punctuates his sentence with a large gulp of air. “Nobody ever needed it anyway. You certainly didn’t. Don’t.”

“And I never will,” yelled Louis. “Stay away from my Mom, Lottie, my entire family. You stay the fuck away.”

“And you stay away from Zayn,” he said, dangerously calm.

“We all need to calm down,” said Gemma, eyeing a fuming Niall, a deflated brother and a seething Louis.

Had she witnessed the end of a friendship? Did Niall and Louis end everything they had built together, everything they did together, all gone in under 10 seconds? He looked at her brother, broken and scared and she knew, that yes, Louis and Niall had ended it all.

“We find Zayn, that’s why you brought us here, Louis. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Niall burst a vessel. “You fucking led him into a pack of wolves to be eaten alive and you don’t know where the fuck he is?”

“Niall, calm down, he’s—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” growled Niall at Harry. “Who knows where the fuck Zayn is and who knows what the fuck that cunt of Perrie’s boyfriend is doing to him.”

Louis inhaled, effectively calming down. “I checked the second floor but nothing. I didn’t see them anywhere.”

“Maybe you didn’t check enough. Now that there’s four of us, we have a better chance,” suggested Niall. “Let’s go.”

Louis wasted no time in arguing and they each followed him to the second floor of the mansion. Harry and Gemma were a little behind them and in their jogging, Harry asked his sister, voice full of hope, “They were lying, right?” Gemma was to answer but then she would have been lying, whatever it was she was going to say. In her silence, Harry got his answer.

The four of them began checking behind each bedroom door, looking into the bathrooms, into the closets, into any space where Zayn could possibly be. They searched and searched but found nothing, nothing at all that yielded Zayn. Except, of course, stumbling into rooms that were heavily occupied and profusely apologizing thereafter.

“Oh shit! Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” cursed Louis, suddenly. “It’s not this floor. It was the _second door_ on the fourth floor!”

“I’d punch you but shit splatters,” yelled Niall, already running down the corridor to get to the fourth floor.

“Stop yelling at me.”

“I’ll yell at you all I want.”

The Styles siblings were running behind them, remaining mum under Niall and Louis freely hurling insults at each other. They reached the fourth floor and repeated the routine of looking through each and every bedroom, looking behind every door, every space where Zayn might be in and it was Harry who stumbled into a wide bathroom where it was packed with several Arsenal players and Zayn.

“Get out!”

Harry’s eyes zoomed on Zayn immediately. He was kneeling on the floor, his black hair soaking wet, including his tank top and looking absolutely weak and wet and wrecked. Behind him were two Arsenal players, holding him up by his arms and in front of him was a white bathtub, filled to the brim with clear water which was swooshing inside. Zayn slowly blinked, face wet, and raised his eyes to Harry. He immediately bowed his head, as if in shame at him taking in the sight of his weakness.

“Get out!”

Louis, Gemma and Niall ran into the room, stopping behind Harry and taking in the sight before them.

“So this is what you were planning?” demanded Louis. “You’re hurting him, Alex.”

“So you’ve decided to join us, I see,” Alex, who was standing by the lip of the bathtub, smirked at Louis.

Niall tuned them both out. He observed his boyfriend, really did, and it was as if Bradford was happening again. There was a bathtub, he was wet, and he was ‘being taught a lesson’ – a lesson he thought was dumb. The only difference was this time he was on time. Yet he felt wholly sick to his stomach at the sight, his arms held up by two shitty Arsenal players and Alex, smug and taunting, standing by.

“… so glad you could join us.”

“Join?” parroted Gemma. “What’s he talking about?”

“Didn’t Louis tell you?” said Alex, sounding too haughtily. “He was the one who came up with this whole idea.”

“What idea?” asked Harry.

“He’s lying,” defended Louis, looking to his right at Harry, Gemma and Niall. “Alex is lying. I wasn’t a part of this, I didn’t tell him to hurt Zayn.”

“Don’t be modest. You told us how he betrayed you, how you were thinking of ways to hurt him, how good it would feel to teach him a lesson. A permanent lesson,” Alex added.

“Stop lying!”        

“We couldn’t have done this without you,” taunted Alex. “If you had not left Zayn at the bar with your sister, we wouldn’t have captured him and dragged him here to teach him to mind his own business.”

Niall watched Zayn’s head hang from his neck, as if too tired to lift it up. He had slowly been lowering it until his forehead was holding his whole head on the lip of the tub, his shoulders moving up and down as if unable to get enough air into his lungs. He looked closely to see there were bruises up and down his arms—

He held his breath.

Zayn was suddenly pushed forward, his head dipped beneath the water level of the bathtub. Niall dashed forward but Alex was shaking his head.

“You come forward, the longer your boyfriend stays underwater.”

Niall stopped then, a few steps before the bathtub. Zayn was roughly lifted up, gasping loudly for air to fill his lungs simultaneously coughing horribly.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Your boyfriend had the audacity to warn me,” Alex spat, “that I should treat _my_ girlfriend with respect. _Me?!_ Like he didn’t cheat on her for years.”

“He forgave her for it,” said Niall, pleadingly, darting glances between a hiccupping Zayn and an angry Alex.

“Who does this terrorist piece of ass think he is in claiming that—”

“Shut up Alex!”

“You’re being rude,” he simply said, nodded his head at the two men holding Zayn up and was roughly dipped in, yet again.

Niall did not care for the winning but headed straight for Zayn. However, he was pushed away, landing painfully on the tiled bathroom floor. Someone threw a punch to his jaw, and another but Niall blocked it and with his other hand, hit him square in the eye, and pushing him off him.

“Let him go, Alex,” he growled at Alex.

Alex simply stared at him, arms folded on his chest, and nodded to the two men holding Zayn. They plunged Zayn’s head below water, the entire bathroom hearing the bubbles and screams and gurgles from Zayn. He did it again, going after Zayn but the player from before caught him again, effectively stopping him.

And Niall lost it.

He grabbed him by the shirt and threw him to the ground. Gemma, Louis and Harry flinched on the spot at the player’s head hitting the ground really hard. Alex and the other two Arsenal players watched in horror as Niall rained blow after blow after blow on their teammate, neither of them moving in to help as they were too shocked. 

Their hold on Zayn loosened, watching in horror as their player’s face was bloody and proper smashed in that he was barely defending himself anymore. Zayn gasped for air, coughing out water from his mouth, wiping his wet hair out of his eyes. He wiped his face from the water, blinking into focus and stubbornly pushing his wet hair back. He turned his attention to Niall hurling a string of colourful words as he beat the player to a pulp, his eyes falling on the player and— _and why was no one else doing anything?_

He stumbled as he stood up, holding himself on the bathtub, still coughing water out of his lungs. No one in the bathroom was moving, their jaws hanging, eyes staring in horror watching Niall punching and hitting him black and blue. He cursed inwardly, Niall was losing control. He was losing it.

He circled his arms around Niall, his chest on Niall’s back and his mouth by his ear. “Stop it, Niall, stop it. You’re killing him.” Niall was twisting in his arms, trying to get free, his back increasingly wet from Zayn’s wet chest. “Look at him, Niall.” Niall was wriggling free, seething from his mouth at the man lying on the floor with his own blood. “He’s not fighting you, he’s not doing anything. He could be dead.”

At that, Niall did not resist Zayn and it seemed the bathroom awoke from their trance. The Arsenal football players rushed to their teammate lying on the floor, beaten to a pulp as Louis, Gemma and Harry went to Zayn who was pulling Niall off the man’s body.

“Are you okay?” asked Niall, it sinking in that Zayn was not by the bathtub but right here, standing before him with his hands cupping his cheeks.

“I should be asking you that, you do it,” chuckled Zayn, his hair stuck to his face.

“You’re going to pay for this,” growled Alex.

The warning came a little too late. Alex charged for Niall, and only Niall. Harry saw him but as he was pushing Niall to safety and Louis pulling Zayn away safely, Alex grabbed Niall by his arms and shoved him back into a wall, hitting his head hard on the wall. Niall’s mouth hung, white hot pain rippling through him and suddenly seeing black. It was a pity because Niall’s favourite song was thrumming _you can find me in the club, bottle full of bub’, look, mami I got the X if you into takin’ drugs…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fans self* what a chapter! too much happened and uh oh, niall niall niiiiiallll!! & villain!louis is fun to write, though i do have to stop myself from making him TOO mean, because c'mon!!  
> KUDOS + COMMENTS are highly welcomed and appreciated, even happy new year greetings ☺
> 
> see you next year, sons ! ♦


	33. This Feeling Flows Both Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall and Zayn have a catch-up from Liam's party and Eleanor pays a visit to her ex-boyfriend.

 

 

> **_You light me up inside, like the 4 th of July,_ **  
>  **_Whenever you’re around I always seem to smile,_ **  
>  **_And people ask how,_ **  
>  **_Well you’re the reason why._ **  
>  **_~   Becky G_ **

 

“You suck at poker.”

“You cheated!”

“You’re terrible at poker.”

“You obviously cheated!”

“You’re _horrific_ at poker.”

Niall threw a cookie square at Zayn’s forehead. “Shut up, you dick!”

Zayn went ahead and took all of the packets of Skittles after rightfully winning in a simple game of poker. Rather simple for Zayn as he was a great poker player, not so much for Niall who did not have a poker face.

They were currently in the hospital, a day after Liam’s scandalous birthday party that was on Page six news and was on BBC news – if it were only a three-minute coverage but nevertheless on _BBC_. Online, it was all anyone was talking about. Several of the top WW trends were about Liam’s party, about why there was an ambulance and police cars outside his mansion (the mansion itself tripled in price in a span of 24 hours!), but most importantly, _what went down at Liam's party!_

The whole day today Niall was flooded with visitors – and gifts. Eleanor was up first. She was fuming and angry at Louis for what happened in the bathroom and had wished she had been there to show him a piece of her mind. As she had been talking, Niall was happily munching on the snacks she had graciously brought.

Liam was second who had come bearing KFC takeaway that Niall immediately got to munching happily. Liam was genuinely worried about him, asking if his head was hurting but Niall repeatedly assured him he was good, and he wanted to know what happened. So Niall explained, right from when Louis called them to the bedroom to find Zayn being drowned. The entire time, Liam oddly remained quiet and belatedly Niall apologized. Why? Because he made a promise to Liam not to get into a fight with Louis, the one day Liam had requested them to be civil – and not worry about them – and the exact opposite happened. Liam waved away his apology and ominously said he was glad he was fine and he had to leave. Training for this weekend’s match with Man City, or something.

Niall should not have been surprised but he was. His next visitor was Elena. She had come to remind him that he had until next week Monday to decide on which single he would be choosing to debut at the Teen’s Choice Awards to which he told her that he would be writing a brand new song with Ed Sheeran – just as soon as he was out of the hospital. And yes, he would go for his photo shoot with Esquire as soon as he was out of the hospital and no, he would not be with Zayn. _Stop asking, Elena!_ It was not all business with her as she had sneaked in, in her sunshine yellow handbag, a bottle of vodka (“It doesn’t smell!” she cheered) which they happily drank together, laughing and chatting about nothing in particular.

He had never been so grateful to see Theo walking through the hospital door when his brother had come to visit. Greg told him that Zayn and Eleanor had briefed him on what happened and asked who they were going after. He shared a knowing smile with his brother and they made plans. He suspected – actually, he _knew_ Zayn would let it slide (the whole drowning thing and the Louis thing and then everything that has been happening before) so together, they made plans. As Greg was making phone calls to the appropriate people, Theo was showing him drawings of Batman he had drawn the day before with Zayn and shared the various tiny cakes that Denise had bought for Niall.

His Ma, who had flown from Dublin, hugged her little Chicken tightly, showering him with kisses (and cookies because _Guinness is banned in t’e hospital, Chicken!_ ).

“I’m fine, Ma, stop worrying,” said Niall after his Ma was fussing with his health and also feeling second-hand embarrassment for the Nurse who had come to check in on him.

“I’ll stop worryin’ when yer dead,” she scolded.

“I promise I’m fine. Just a little cut and concussion, that’s all.”

“Why were ye getting’ into fights?”

“I was defending Zayn,” he told her. His Ma sat back on the chair by the hospital bed and gave him that _look_. “Was I not meant to?”

“It’s not t’at. Ye get out ‘f control when ye anger enters yer body.”

“He stopped me.”

“The Arab boy told me,” she smiled sweetly, her hand holding Niall’s that was hooked to trails of invisible tubes. “He told me he’s not suin’ those footballers. He talked t’ Peary, I t’ink t’at’s her name, ‘n’ he told me she would sort that boy who hurt him out.”

“I wasn’t going to do much about them because I know Zayn will convince me otherwise.”

“So ye go after yer friend?”

“Louis isn’t my friend,” he said, icily.

His Ma had looked at him and then changed the subject. Thereafter, his cousins came to see him (Willie was going on a date with Eva Longoria this weekend) having laughs together and sharing the gifts they brought for him. Harry had dropped by, too, before his four-ten flight to Paris (“Back to work for some of us!” sighed Harry) and they did not talk about the party. He fell asleep after, exhausted by the sheer company (and food) of the day and only recently woke up to find Zayn reading a novel by Leo Tolstoy.

“The last time I was in the hospital,” said Niall, “was when I was going for my knee surgery.”

Zayn chewed on several Skittles. “Hospitals scare me.”

“Really?” asked Niall, surprised. They were sat cross-legged in the middle of the narrow bed; Niall donned in a pale hospital gown and Zayn in his signature leather jacket, hair tied in a topknot, black jeans, and surprisingly bright coloured socks, and in between them the Skittles that Zayn won and a packet of Doritos that Niall was thoroughly enjoying. “How come?”

Zayn shrugged, looking down at where their knees were touching.

“Was it when your dad was in the hospital after his heart stopped?” he asked.

Zayn shook his head. “My grandfather, Walter.”

“What happened?”

Zayn shook his head, shrugging at the same time, and Niall thought he would not answer but after a moment he did. “He… got complications. Heart problems.” He inhaled lightly through his mouth. “Doctors kept him for ages in the hospital, constantly monitoring him and shit. Then he went into a coma and.” He shrugged his punctuation. “My mom never left his side, she would always be holding his hand, softly murmuring some words to him, other times begging him to wake up and the rest of the time, she was silent.”

Niall cupped his knee with his free hand, Zayn fluttering his eyes shut at the touch, feeling warm and homey and safe in a place he honestly blamed for the death of his grandfather.

“The Doctors politely told us there was nothing to do but make it a peaceful transition.”

“What?”

“He was dying, Niall, and they couldn’t help him.” He breathed out through his mouth, his left hand gripping tightly to his knee. “They couldn’t bloody help him. Sometimes I feel like we got some horrible curse on our family that gets our hearts.” He licked his lips. “So we took him home and we counted down the days. But days turned to weeks which turned into months and he was fit as a fiddle.”

“Doctors suck,” said Niall, chuckling lightly that earned him a smile from the dark-haired boy. He popped more Skittles into his mouth, chewing and not once looking to Niall but that did not matter because Zayn placed his hand on top of Niall’s on his knee and that was enough.

“Walter had this… alarm clock. It was so bloody loud that it literally woke the whole neighbourhood. It was a gift from my sister, Walihya, and because Walter loved it, we let him keep it. Every morning, the bloody thing would ring and I wanted to smack the alarm clock against the wall each time it rang.”

“You must have been happy when he turned it off.”

Zayn had a ghost of a smile on his lips. But that was not what caused the frown between his brown brows. It was the flooding in his eyes and the sudden trembling of his lips that Niall knew he said the wrong thing.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he left his sentence to peter out, Zayn shaking his head. He rubbed underneath his nose and sniffed twice.

“One morning it rang, bloody thing,” he laughed, watery, “and it kept ringing. Because I was the closest to his room, I got out of bed and knocked on the door, asking him to turn it off. The alarm kept ringing and my mom shouted from downstairs to turn it off or else Mercy – our then neighbour – might come again round again. I walked into Walter’s room and it was ten times louder,” he said, his smile wobbly. “I called out to him, shaking him but he didn’t budge. The alarm was still ringing and for a while, I thought he would wake up, I mean, if the bloody alarm would wake my family, Mercy why not him? Why not Walter? I shouted at my mom and…”

Zayn squeezed his eyes and the memories rolled down his cheeks. Niall enveloped him in a hug, Zayn’s forehead on his shoulder, soothing circles on his back and peppering his neck with soft kisses.

“I’m sorry.”

Zayn pulled back, blinking at the white wall. “I always thought that alarm clocks wake us up in the morning, or the smell of breakfast but… it’s really not. It doesn’t hit you that alarm clocks don’t wake our souls, our hearts when they stop. They’re not loud enough, not loud enough to reach…” he said, his throat dry. “It’s the grace of Allah that does, only Him that wakes us up each and every morning.”

“It must have been hard after.”

“For some odd reason, I kept the alarm clock,” he told Niall as if it were the first time he was saying it out loud. “I don’t know why since I hate the bloody thing.” He bowed his head, his hand playing with the hem of his black jeans. “Sometimes I would set the alarm at six sharp – he was an early riser – and just let it ring and ring and ring.”

He shut his eyes, more memories falling down his cheeks. Niall reached and palmed his cheeks, wiping the tears underneath his glassy eyes. He did not what to say, truly, and he most certainly did not want to say _it was his time_ or _He would be proud of you_ or _Death gets us all in the end_ , or worse, _Heaven gained another angel_. While the phrases were all true, it irked Niall in the wrong way. They were shallow and overused and quite frankly—

“I miss him, sometimes,” he said, cutting through Niall’s thoughts.

“I think there’s something about the older generation and waking up early,” said Niall. “Even my Grandma is an early riser – by five she is up and about. She’s the reason why I am a morning person, really.”

“Didn’t you hate it? Waking up early?”

“At first, yeah, but after a while, I just woke up early, six, seven, I’d be up—even on holidays.”

Zayn laughed. “That must’ve sucked.”

“You have no idea.”

Niall was smiling, happy that Zayn’s tears had stopped and was not pondering on Walter and also his heart was thrumming underneath his ribs at Zayn’s story. Yes, they had been dating for a while now but these secrets they shared, moments like these (even if in a hospital), he found himself falling in love with the Pakistan lad.

“She’s the one in the retirement home, right? Nancy?”

Niall nodded, warmth spreading on his cheeks. “It’s a funny thing, really, she’s the one who wanted to go and we didn’t want her to go.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows. “How come?”

“She said that we had our own lives to live and she would be a bother,” he said. It was some time before his audition for X Factor, during one of his weekly visits to the Home, when he asked her, the true reason for her leaving. “We told her she was not a bother and she should stay at home, with us. But I was moving to London, Greg wasn’t home, Ma and Bobby were busy with work…”

“And she would often be alone.”

Niall’s eyes snapped to Zayn’s in surprise. “That’s… that’s exactly what she said. H-how did you know?”

He shrugged, dropping several Skittles into his palm. “It’s quite simple really. She has a lot of time on her hands and, often, everyone else is out and about, leaving her to her own devices. At least at the Home, she has people around her. She’s not lonely.”

“I swear you’re a guru,” said Niall, shaking his head in disbelief. “She’s happy now, at least. Well, not like she wasn’t before, but she is.”

“She is.”

“One time when I had come to visit during one of our tour breaks, I told her that I was back for a couple of weeks and she should come home and stay with us; Ma was there and Greg would be taking some time off. And do you know what she said?”

Zayn shook his head, his eyes filled with enjoyment.

“‘Home?’ she had asked,” said Niall, imitating his Grandma’s Irish accent to a T. “And I said, ‘of course home, where else?’ and she looked at me, straight in the eye, and said, ‘But I’m home.’ And I shook my head, arguing that she wasn’t home, she was in some retirement place with old people.”

“You seriously said that?”

Niall nodded, laughter in his throat. “I did and she shook her head and said she was home. At first I didn’t get it but eventually, I did.”

“And?”

“I would look at her from afar, eating with her friends, knitting, playing Bingo, walking around in the garden – or for her, in her wheelchair – and she looked peaceful. Comfortable as if everything was settled in its place. She didn’t have just one Home, she had another with her new set of family.”

“With people who were more like her,” added Zayn. Niall nodded at his statement, leaning his cheek against his palm. Silently, he accepted Skittles from him, offering a silent prayer to the stars and moons and Zayn’s Allah, to give Nancy good health.

“Would Walter have wanted to go to a Home?”

Zayn shook his head. “My family don’t believe in Homes. They say family takes care of families, not in the hands of strangers.”

Their conversation was halted when a hospital Nurse walked through, it was time for Niall’s check-up and medication.  The Nurse gave Zayn a pointed look at all the candy on the bed but said nothing when Niall distracted her with all talk of how lovely Zayn is and by the time she was done with her check-up, she knew Zayn’s closest was nothing but leather jackets, he spent a large time on choosing colour of his socks and even if Niall complained that he took too long to get ready, it was worth it because Niall would wait forever (to which Zayn furiously blushed and the Nurse rolled her eyes at the cheesiness). 

The kiss is slow to start with, barely more than teasing brushes of Zayn’s lips on Niall’s. Niall forgot to breathe with Zayn pressed his lips to his, teasing him with feather-light kisses, swipes of the tongue which were never satisfying but his lungs refused inhale.

 With his hand reaching behind his neck, Zayn tilted his head and kissed him hard, sliding his wet hot tongue against Niall’s. His hands roamed underneath his black shirt, his hands on his warm back, fingertips digging in as Zayn’s tongue danced with his.

“I missed you,” Zayn told him, breathlessly.

With his back on the hospital bed, Niall’s hands slide down his back to the curve of his (small) ass and grabs it, Zayn shamelessly moaning into Niall’s mouth. He cupped his ass tighter and pressing his crotch to his. Yes, it had been a while (okay, two days) since they last had sex and the last time they did, it was backbreaking.

 

_Niall did not respond, instead of occupying his mouth with his lips. Lips smacked against each other as Niall’s hands touched, touched, touched underneath’s Zayn’s shirt as if searching for gold._

_Zayn moaned into the kiss, bringing his knees up and locking Niall between his thighs. He did not know where this was coming from – they had just come from the after party of the_ How to Be Single _premiere – but he liked where this was going. Niall buried his face into Zayn’s neck, tonguing on the warm skin, smelling a lot like his apple shampoo._

_“Ni-niall,” he breathed, arching his neck back, Niall getting more skin to lap his tongue over, to lick, to taste, to enjoy. “Wha-what’s this?”_

_“Shirt, off,” he commanded. Zayn followed orders, taking off his shirt and already finding Niall’s off. There was something in Niall’s eyes as they raked down his torso, almost greedy, borderline possessive and he felt a sharp shiver down his spine._

_He silently watched him as Niall’s fingers walked along his trail of happy hairs and his other hand came forward and pushed his chin up. He clicked his belt, unbutton his jeans and his fingertips on his waistband. His thumb grazed across his abs, down to the left over his_ Don’t Think I Won’t _tattoo._

_“Niall, talk to me,” he said. While he was enjoying himself, his boyfriend was oddly quiet when every other time he was very vocal. “What is it?”_

_“It’s not their fault they hover but I can’t help but be jealous,” he told him, thumbing his v-line. “Don’t like how they look at you.”_

_“Who?”_

_He got off him and pulled down his tight jeans, Zayn lifting his hips and they came off easily, along with his underwear. Niall followed suit, his cock bopping against his stomach, wet and red and leaking. There was something in the way Niall was looking at him, in a greedy, hungry manner like he was all he could have on a buffet._

_“Who was looking at me?” he asked, his palms spread on Niall’s stomach, trekking up to his shoulders._

_“Turn over, I’m going to eat you out,” he ordered. Zayn’s mouth fell, saliva pooling and his hand fumbling and finding his cock, slowly jerking himself off. Niall’s eyes fell on it and Zayn felt like a kid caught with his hand inside the cookie jar. “You’re going to come undone.”_

_With his knees bent, head pressed to his palms and ass in the air, Zayn was ready for whatever this hungry Niall had for him. Light kisses were showered on the line of his spine, heading down which was in contrast to the tight grip Niall had on his ass._

_“Gonna eat you for dinner.”_

_Zayn fisted his hair. Fuck, his throbbing cock dripped on the bed._

_Niall spread his cheeks and, with one long, wet swipe, licked his ass clean. Zayn lowered his head forward, his hands running through his jet-black hair and holding tight. Niall lapped his tongue over his opening, getting it nice and wet, licking him like a lollipop._

_His fingers pressed into his cheeks and dragged down, pink trails following and Niall smirked. He was going to have fun with his boyfriend, teach those_ assholes _to keep off Zayn. How dare they flirt with him when he was standing right there! He added another pillow below his thighs and Niall went nose deep, his tongue licking and tasting his pink, wet hole, over and over leaving Zayn whimpering beneath him, Urdu words filled the air mixed with his favourite name of Niall’s, Habibi._

_He eased inside of him with the tip of his tongue, tasting Zayn on the tip of his tongue. Zayn was delicious! He gripped his ass, spreading his cheeks and pushed his tongue more inside, harder that had Zayn bucking back into him._

_“You’re absolutely delicious, Snookums,” hummed Niall._

_He puckered his lips, as if ready to kiss, and sucked on his pretty pink hole, switching between sucking and blowing, over and over, and not getting enough of the taste of him. Zayn was bucking into him, almost as if to get off on his tongue inside of him, with Niall reached his hand to palm down Zayn’s hot back, raking his nails along the line of his spine._

_“Close?” Niall teased._

_“Y-yes.”_

_Niall slapped his ass twice and told him to flip. Zayn was confused as he did so._

_“I thought I was coming undone,” he said._

_Niall pulled him closer and he had Zayn’s thighs pressed up against his body, and his legs thrown over his shoulder. “You’re going to come with my fingers inside you.” Zayn gulped. “And you are not, absolutely not, to touch me.”_

_“Why?” he wondered aloud._

_Niall’s hands were on his fuzzy thighs, palming him up and down, head in between Zayn’s legs. “Safe word?”_

_“What?”_

_“You’re going to give me a safe word,” ordered Niall. Zayn wracked his brain, looking for a cool word, a word that was awesome, and cool and— “Any word will do.”_

_“Paper,” he blurted. So much for coolness. “Why can’t I touch you?”_

_Niall’s response was sliding not one but two saliva-coated fingers inside of him, his fingers surrounded by velvety warmth he shut his eyes and sucked in air sharply. He pushed passed his knuckles and_ holyballs _, he wanted nothing but to watch Zayn come with just his fingers._

_Zayn waggled his hips on Niall’s fingers. “Move.” A hand pressed on Zayn’s lower stomach, lightly pressing as if remind Zayn it was there, and that he should pay attention. So he relaxed on to the bed and closed his eyes. The hand ghosted over his hard cock, barely touching, barely there but he was bucking forward wanting more. “Niall.”_

_Niall pulled out his fingers, slick and wet and hot, looked directly at Zayn as he sucked on his fingers._

_“You don’t know how good you taste,” said Niall, breathy and turned on and so, so hard. Zayn inhaled deeply. Niall pushed his fingers back inside of him, his thumb pressing on his dark curls by his balls. Zayn fisted his hands on the bed sheets, muttering not enough. He spread his fingers just a tad, like a scissor, then closed them and sharply spread them inside him._

_“F-fuck,” Zayn cursed, breathing in rapidly._

_Niall turned his head and nosed his leg, the hairs tickling his nose before biting the skin, grinding the olive fleshy skin to red between his pearly whites. And then he pushed his fingers inside of him, repeatedly pumping inside of him and Zayn was cursing breathlessly of so good and_ fasterfasterfaster _and just when he was about to come, Niall stilled his fingers. He kissed the massive bite mark on the side of his knee as he removed his fingers from inside him._

_The death grip of the sheets loosened and Zayn opened his eyes, momentarily coming into focus on the ceiling and then tipping his chin down to gaze at Niall._

_“Why’d you stop?”_

_“You were going to come,” he told him. Zayn frowned, his forehead glistening under the fluorescent lighting. Niall maintained eye contact and he brought the fingers that were inside him into his mouth, tasting Zayn on his tongue again. “You taste so, so delicious, Snookums.”_

_“I want you,” groaned Zayn. Niall deliberately slurped on his fingers, loud, licking up and down them until he was tasting nothing but saliva. “_ I need you _. Please.” Zayn waggled his hips on the bed, his sweating cock dripping on his stomach. “Now. _ Please. _”_

_“Tomorrow, promise.”_

_“Please, Niall. Want to feel you,” he pleaded and it was all going straight to his cock. Fuck. He thought he was good at this, good at being in control but with Zayn’s gruff voice, his accent even thicker, and that damn stubble on his jaw, he was going to come first, he swore on it._

_Niall slipped three fingers in._

_“Want to feel you, Habibi, not your fingers. Want your massive cock in me, fill me up, make me feel good.” Zayn ground on Niall’s fingers, almost fucking himself on them. “For me, please. I can’t touch you so please, please, please, do this—”_

_“You keep talking and I’m going to come,” he moaned into Zayn’s knee. He bit hard on it, Zayn moaning breathily below Niall._

_“Please, Niall. I’m about come but I want to with you inside me,” pleaded Zayn, pulling up on the sheets._

_Niall was not one to keep him waiting. He slapped haphazardly behind him on Zayn’s King sized bed for a condom and picked on a blue foiled paper. He quickly tore it and rolled down on his cock._

_“Ready?”_

_Zayn nodded, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. As Niall entered him, his cock opening him no way fingers could, his legs hooked behind Niall’s head and pressed, his hands pulling the sheets off the bed and his mouth opening in a voiceless cry._

_“You feel so good, babe,” groaned Niall bottoming out. He could feel Zayn stretching around him, opening up for him, panting just for him. His nerves were screaming to move, his thumb digging into his hips knowing he would leave a mark but_ ohfuckme _he wanted to move, nothing but to move. His arms were trembling with desire and the enveloping warmth on his cock bea—_

_“Move.”_

_He snapped his hips before the words rolled off Zayn’s tongue and rode him, faster and harder, his hands holding himself on Zayn’s hips. He rocked him hard, their bodies moving on the bed, a pool of warmth on stomach as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. And it stopped, again._

_“Niall!” Zayn cried, groaned, and slammed his fist onto the bed. What the f—_

_“Safe word,” he reminded him._

_Zayn lolled his head back onto the pillow, focusing on his breathing. Niall slowly entered him, bottoming out, taking him to the edge and then dragging back, like water coming to the shore and then back. He fucked him gently for a bit longer, Zayn’s clawing at the sheets, sped up taking to the edge and slow down, repeating it again and again and over again._

_Zayn was gasping now, feeling like he had been going on for hours, his body coursing through to the edge, then back and forth... His thighs were shaking and his cock dripping fast onto his stomach. “Please,” he all but sighed the word._

_“Not yet, Snookums.”_

_Zayn groaned and_ shitballscows _, he was on the brink literally. The need to come was there, he could see it, feel on the tips of his toes, if only he could—_

 _He heard ripping sounds which halted Niall and he realized he was ripping his own bed sheets. He was ripping the sheets and_ oh fuck him _, he was coming, he was there._

_“Not yet.”_

_Zayn cried out as he ripped the sheets now, not caring anymore because his fucking ass boyfriend was not letting him come._

_“Fuck. Niall.”_

_“Safe word if you want me to stop.”_

_Oh sweet goodness, he was crying._

_“Don’t you want me to fill you up…” Niall slowly rocked into Zayn, filling him up Zayn was sure he was in another level of Hell. Pleasure Hell if there was ever such a thing. “Feel me inside of you, come inside you.”_

_His hands scrabbled away for purchase, now that sheets were done for. He blinked at the ceiling – a bright orange he honestly thought looked ugly now that he had been staring at it for a while – a tear track rolling down his face and onto the sheets below his head._

_“Please, Ni…” he huffed, words dying on his tongue. There was a pool of heat on his stomach and he felt his entire being on fire, every fibre inside of him was in flames, heat overpowering his senses and if it were possible for your entire body – organs, nerve endings, hair follicles – to just be_ burning with desire and want and love _—_

_Niall screwed his cock inside of him, his hands shaking from holding himself up on Zayn’s hips and he could see Zayn was spent, hanging on a thread. Zayn’s leg with the half-done wolf tattoo fell off his shoulder and Niall promptly put it back on his shoulder, kissing the side of his ankle. With feather-light touches, he walked down on Zayn’s sweaty torso, spreading the pre-come pooling on his stomach._

_“Ni…” Zayn’s was heaving in now, losing focus, in and out, feeling as if parts of him were leaving his body, slowly by slowly, “Ni—” he whimpered, half weeping for release, “Hab–” He lolled his head left to right, the tight hold on Niall’s hips keeping him grounded otherwise he swore he would_ fly _._

_“I love you,” he told him but Zayn could not speak._

_“Ple… pl… pleas…”_

_“Come. Now!”_

_Niall plummeted into him, hitting his prostrate square. Zayn finally let go, crying loudly into the open room. He arched off the bed and it seemed to take_ forever _to come, pulse after pulse, his cock juiced all of the built-up teasing from Niall, his come shooting across his stomach and above his head._

_Niall, too, came from the sight of Zayn coming, him clenching tight around his aching cock for so long, gloriously filling him up. He was gorgeous, his eyes shining as he gazed up at him, and his nails digging into his sides, leaving half-crescent shapes. After he came down from his high, he looked over to Zayn who shut his eyes and passed out._

_He went about cleaning both of them, starting by throwing the used condom in the basket. He went into the bathroom, taking several towels, and coming over to clean Zayn up, and dressing him a clean underwear (all he could find were coloured underwear, no whites which was well, very Zayn and unlike him). He carried him off the bed, Zayn’s head lolling back and hands flying out and about and he laid him gently, his head on the cold pillow, hopefully, help cool down his hot body – now that Niall was touching him._

_He cleaned himself fairly quickly, dressing up and waiting for Zayn to awake. He was sat by Zayn’s head,_ the Oder of the Phoenix _opened and reading happily. It was one of the books that the fans had generously gifted him where J.K. Rowling herself had written a message for him._

_“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”_

_Niall looked down at where Zayn’s head was on the fluffy white pillow, gazing at him dreamily beneath his eyelashes._

_“Reading glasses,” he explained. He shut the book, bookmarking it with his finger. “You okay?”_

_Zayn chuckled, briefly burying his head in the pillow. He lifted himself off and got to his knees. “I’m going to walk funny tomorrow, shit!”_

_Niall ducked his head, warmth spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “You’ll manage.”_

_“Easy for you to say.” Zayn sat on the pillow he had buried his face and stretched out his arms in front of him. “I felt like… I was on fire. Like every part of me was on flames, burning red and.” He paused, inhaling shakily with a grin on his lips. “You were fucking monumental, Habibi.”_

_Niall smiled at him, feeling shy and all suddenly even after he took Zayn to space and the galaxy and he saw nothing but stars and constellations._

_“It’s always going to be you Niall, no one else,” Zayn whispered into his skin. “No matter who makes me chuckle, who holds my hand for long, who flirts with me when you’re standing right there… none of them will have me like you do. I love none of them like I cherish you. Ya Habib Alby.”_

_“Habibi means ‘my love’, so what’s… Ya… Al… something?” he asked, knowing he botched whatever Zayn had told him._

_“Ya Habib Alby,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss on his skin. “Love of my heart.”_

_Niall swooned at the words, momentarily wondering why French was the most romantic language when clearly, it was Arabic, then abruptly stopped. “Ho-how. How did you know? About everything?” he sputtered._

_“Don’t think I didn’t see you try to clock Ryan when he made some joke about Deadpool,” said Zayn and Niall hearing the laugh bubbling in his words._

_“Fucking asshole was making jokes that were unfunny and trying to ha—”_

_His words were eaten by Zayn licking his tongue into his mouth, his hand cupping his neck, and sucking on his warm tongue. He exhaled shakily on Zayn’s lips when he pulled back, the book in his hand long forgotten._

_“He wasn’t funny, Habibi. No one makes me laugh like you do.”_

_“Promise?” asked Niall, feeling small and unsure and maybe his knock knock jokes are not the best and he should improve on them, or better yet, find great ones that do ma—”_

_“I promise.” He sealed it in a long kiss. “Only you make me laugh the hardest.”_

 

Zayn flooded his neck with wet kisses, biting here and there and oh gosh, Niall was trembling underneath Zayn’s warm body, holding onto his hips tightly. He arched his neck, giving his boyfriend better access and his eyes fell shut on their own.

“Did I ever mention I love you, Niaz Kilam?”

Zayn pulled back, gazing down at his boyfriend. He was smiling brightly at him with his tongue behind his cheek and his nose scrunched in the most adorable of ways. “I don’t think you have.”

“Oh no?” Niall feigned innocence. He jerked his hips and Zayn groaned.

“I thought about _you_.”

“Me?” Niall was smirking and the sight of Zayn shy and blushing going straight to his cock. “In what way?”

Zayn licked his lips. “We were meant to have Ninja turtle sex… but I jerked off to you… remembered when you wrecked me… didn’t walk for days… replayed the—fuck!”

Niall’s hands had been searching for purchase on Zayn’s body, roaming and his hands cupping Zayn’s hardening cock. One thing led to another, Niall’s hand was underneath Zayn’s underwear, Zayn was loosening his hospital gown by pushing it down his shoulder where he was biting and sucking down on his skin, both of them panting until a distinct, piercing sound interrupted them both.

“What the fuck is that?” Zayn scrambled off Niall, looking around them for the sound that sounded like an alarm.

“Is it the fire alarm?” inquired Niall. In their search for the reason for the piercing sound (which had stopped ringing, thankfully), their bodies were still hot, pressed closely against each other, lost in their world, that they did not hear the Nurse walk in quickly and stopping in her tracks.

“Oh my!”

Zayn cursed in Urdu, burying his head in Niall’s neck.

“Hey Angela,” said Niall, as cool as he could, not at all dying of mortification. He removed his hand from his boyfriend’s softening cock as discreetly as he could. “What’s up?”

“You pressed the emergency button,” replied Nurse Angela, checking for any clues of distress on her patient with her eyes.

“Must have been an accident,” he said, laughing nervously. Zayn continued laying still atop Niall’s flushed body, trying his best to just disappear.

“Is your boyfriend dead?”

Zayn shook his head, still buried in Niall’s neck.

“Shy, this one,” said Niall. “Um… is there a way you can come back… um, later?”

Nurse Angela narrowed her eyes. “I’m not leaving until he gets off you and I need to make sure that you are healthy.”

Zayn cursed, again, in Urdu. In no way was it easy but he got off Niall and buttoned his jeans with the little dignity left as Niall brought the thin blanket to his chest, the ghost of Zayn’s teeth on his shoulder. Nurse Angela pointed to her neck in an indication of the large red marks on his shoulder and Niall lifted his gown.

She did her assessment, with Zayn staying resolutely quiet and instantly looking away when Nurse Angela looked his way, deeming Niall safe and indeed the button had been pressed by accident and warned them not to touch it and not to engage in sexual activities in a hospital. _At all_ , she added with a pointed glare at Zayn who was more interested in the soap opera playing on the small TV.

“Shall we pick up where—”

“You’re out of your fucking head,” said Zayn who resolutely sat back in his chair next to Niall’s bed where he had been sitting and reading the previous day when his boyfriend was recovering.

“It’s not like sh—”

“No, Niall.”

Niall laughed. “It’s cute when you get flustered over sex.”

“When you’re caught with your boyfriend’s hand down your pants in a hospital because you accidentally pressed the emergency button, it ruins the mood. Completely.”

“Kinda.”

Zayn paused, slowly gazing at him. “You don’t have a kink in public sex, do you?”

“Not really… though there was a time when my girlfriend—girl person and I were having sex,” –Zayn raised a quizzical eyebrow at Niall’s change of status – “with who would only have sex with me when in public.”

“Normally, I don’t want to hear about your ex stories… but I’m interested. Why?”

“It was a turn on. Fetish to the extreme.”

“When you say public places…”

“Restrooms, mainly. Children’s playgrounds. Ooh! There—”

“Nope.” Zayn shook his hands in a ‘No’ motion. “Can’t. I’m done.” Silence ensued. “Who was it?”

“Vinney.”

“Vinney?” parroted Zayn, then rolled his eyes. “Slut.” Niall stayed silent, gazing dopily at his boyfriend. “You really had horrible taste, back in the day.”

“Zoe was hot.”

Zayn snorted. “She was a—You know what, why am I even talking about her? She was nobody to you then and she’s nobody to you now. Oh! Before I forget,” said Zayn, hurriedly. “Liam and Danielle aren’t dating.”

Niall shook his head. “But they were pretty close at his party. Why aren’t they dating?”

“Whatever it is you saw was just… friendship. Or something.”

“Did Payno tell you or Danielle?”

“Both,” Zayn smirked at Niall’s deflated expression on his face. “How badly did you want them to date?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled under his breath. Zayn stretched his hand and squeezed his boyfriend’s pale hand. Niall beamed at him, his eyes sparkling underneath the fluorescent lighting. “I love you, Snookums.”

“I love you… Llian Naroh.” Zayn chuckled at his own joke. “Sounds like some Egyptian person.”

Niall’s eyes widen in wonder. “Like an Egyptian Emperor?”

Zayn. “Ah, shit! Wallahi, I’m going to stop complimenting you. You grow such a big head.”

“Emperor Naroh!”

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

“Please tell me you have underwear underneath those last year’s sweatpants,” sneered Eleanor as a way of greeting.

“Please, come in.”

Louis rolled his eyes as he shut his front door to his London home he shared with his boyfriend, Harry. Eleanor made her way into their kitchen and sat on one of the stools.

“Tea, please,” she requested, not kindly and Louis obliged. He put the kettle on and grabbed the jar of different sorts of tea and milk.

“Harry is into tea nowadays so he buys all sorts,” he explained when he pushed the jar of tea her way.

“He talked you out of coffee, didn’t he?” She smirked at him.

“Said coffee destroyed the stomach lining.” He laughed, more to himself, and the smile was off his face as soon as it appeared. He resumed making tea for the both of them and a couple of minutes later, they were sat across each other in the living room.

“Liam’s outside, by the way,” Eleanor cut through the silence. She was sat on a beige couch, her knees brought up and a cup of tea on the hand rest.

“Why?”

“In case you plan to drown me with the help of Oli.”

Louis sighed. He should have known Eleanor visiting was not because she wanted but because someone (read: Niall) sent her. “Oli’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“No one is here.”

“What do you mean?” she asked then sipped her tea.

After everyone learnt about the bathroom incident at Liam’s historic summer party, Louis was feeling isolated. First, his devoted boyfriend asked for some space by flying to Paris to continue filming for _Beauty and the Beast_ even if he was not due in for another week. His sister, Lottie, was absolutely not speaking to him nor was his entire family. His boyfriend’s family neither – Gemma did nothing but throw glares at him and his phone calls going unanswered while Anne had called him this morning in a two-hour lecture on sending Niall to the hospital. Zayn had come to visit (a little surprised if he was being honest) but it was short – so short he had stood by the door, not entering his house as compared to Liam who was not even _inside_ the house and…

“Oli left.”

Eleanor blinked above her cup. “Left?”

“Went to Donny,” he explained. When they had both gone home after Liam’s party, Oli and Louis had a bitter row with Oli leaving and they have not spoken since.

“You know this is bad, Louis. If Oli isn’t talking to you…”

“Is Liam seriously not coming in?” he asked instead of replying.

“It was his day, Louis, and he asked the four of you not to do anything and yet you all went ahead and did it. He just wanted to celebrate his birthday, hassle-free.”

“How angry is he?”

Eleanor drank her tea.

“That pissed, huh?” Louis sighed loudly.

“Doesn’t it bother you that no one is here with you?” she questioned, her eyes trained on him like a tiger. “You pushed everyone, Louis, and you’re becoming more alone every day.”

“Zayn came to visit, saying he forgave me.”

“He’s probably scared you’ll steal more of his money if he sues you.”

“I don’t have a problem with him, you know.”

Eleanor set her cup roughly on the glass coffee table. “It’s Niall you have a problem with. Louis, you’re a right idiot! You claim not to have an issue with Zayn yet you go right ahead and hurt him.”

“It wasn’t me, it was Alex.”

“You gave him the idea and he went with it. If you hadn’t gotten to talking with him, Zayn would be fine but he isn’t and Niall’s in the hospital.”

“Still?”

“He got out today.”

“He—Alex got out of control.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes up the ceiling. “You didn’t even apologize.”

Louis drank his tea, eyes falling on Eleanor’s painted toenails.

“What’s worse is what you said to Niall.”

“What did I say to him?”

“When you said he wasn’t capable of love,” she spat at him. “You had no right, Louis.”

“How’d you know about that?”

“Gemma.”

“It was said in the heat of the moment, I didn’t mean it. You know I never mean anything I say when I’m angry.”

“You called him a monster who was incapable of loving and being loved. You had no bloody right to say those mean things. You know Niall was never taught to love.”

“You don’t _teach_ love.”

“Where was he meant to know what love is? From his parents who never loved each other? His brother who was never at home, always at uni, then at work, then out of the country? His bandmates, one who quit the band, the rest whispering behind his back like fucking gossip girls—yes, I know about that,” she answered Louis’ unasked question.

Louis choked on his tea. “Ho—you were never there.”

“We dated, don’t you remember? Besides, when you were somewhere about, Niall and I used to chill,” she answered his curiosity. “Louis, all that Niall has come to know about love is through trial and error. No one taught him about love, he had no way to learn about it apart from movies, TV shows, books, gossip magazines, observation, whathaveyou. When one of his hook-ups ever wanted something more, he’d bail because he didn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Love scares us all.”

“It paralyses Niall. He has a twisted form of love,” she said and she suddenly had a far-away look in her eyes. “He so unsure about the concept of love to the extent he becomes paranoid about it.”

He leaned forward. “How?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she said, tone icy. She planted her feet on the floor and Louis sat up straighter, giving her his full attention. “Gemma told me, before you both found Zayn, that you two ended your friendship.”

“He started it.”

“You provoked him. You’ve been provoking him for who knows how long. You threatened him that you’ll do something bad to Zayn on WhatsApp some time back—”

“And I found out from my lawyer that _someone_ had given Briana information on how she can have full custody of my son,” he said, sounding perturbed.

“It’s her son, too, and that was Niall, smart ass.”

“I know that now,” he muttered.

“Niall’s reacting to what you’re doing to him, Louis. If you think about it, everything is coming back to the day when Niall met up with Zayn. Everything that’s been going on is a ripple effect of _that_ meeting.”

“He broke the pact we made.”

“What’s so bad about it?”

“We four made a deal,” Louis said, “and he broke it. We were not meant to keep in contact with Zayn and he went right ahead and betrayed us. It brother code and he broke it.”

“And so this whole time you hurt Zayn to teach Niall a lesson?” inquired Eleanor, connecting the dots. The fact that Louis drank his tea confirmed her suspicion. “Just apologize Louis. Seriously. And get over this dumb rivalry.”

“Never. Why me? Why not him for leaving us?” he yelled, then inhaled deeply, calming his nerves. “You were right, everything that has been happening is a ripple effect of the first time Niall and Zayn met. Everything comes back to that— _them_.”

“But it’s deeper than that, right?” she inquired, slowly piecing two and two together. “You’re mad at Zayn, still, for leaving the band last year? You’re still pissed at him.”

“Don’t get it twisted, Eleanor, I made my peace with Zayn leaving, truly. My issue is with Niall.”

“Because of a contract you four signed and he—?”

“He broke the code, Eleanor!”

Eleanor shook her head, done with Louis. She stood up, picking her sling bag and wearing her jacket.

“You’re leaving?” he asked in a whisper.

“The fact that you don’t realize that neither Harry nor Oli are here – the two people in your life who never leave – means you’re too into your head.” Louis abruptly stood up, triggered. “Ni fiercely protects those he loves and one of them is Zayn. Zayn said that Perrie would deal with Alex and for beating that footballer, he is not pressing charges or anything to Niall. But you, you hurt Zayn in one of the worst ways so he’s coming after you.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Eleanor said, making her way to the door.

“I swear it wasn’t,” said Louis, voice anxious and on edge.

“If you thought you attending my baby’s funeral and Niall almost strangling you to death is the worst thing he’s capable of, you’re out of your mind. Ni’s coming after you.”

“He wouldn’t do anything,” he sounded panicked. “Zayn said that Niall wouldn’t take Freddie away from me.”

“Count your lucky stars Zayn talked him out of it,” she said, “but whatever else he’s going to do, you’ll pay dearly for it.”

“I didn’t—”

Eleanor turned around on the spot and yelled at him, “You are the reason Zayn was being drowned. You’re _the_ reason.”

Louis bowed his head, unable to look anywhere but at his ex-girlfriend.

“You claim that Niall’s incapable of love, that he is a monster. I don’t know how you wake up in the morning and see nothing wrong with the man in the mirror.”

She opened the door and they both startled. Liam was on the other side of the door, his hand reaching out for the doorbell.

“You were in there for long. I was getting worried.”

She smiled up at Liam. “Just finishing up.”

“You’re not saying anything, Liam?” asked Louis. Liam looked on at him and said nothing. “Really mature, Liam.”

“Think about what I’ve said,” said Eleanor, as her way of saying goodbye.

Louis clenched his jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

“Niall loves you, underneath it all,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. Louis glanced to Liam on the left who had a furious blank expression and darted his eyes back to Eleanor. “He’ll accept your apology.”

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

“It’s a pity there are no stars.”

“It’s a pity we live in a city,” said Zayn. “Makes it harder to watch the stars.”

“Even the moon isn’t out.”

Zayn hummed. There was half an empty bottle of Jameson and several cans of Guinness. Near the empty alcohol were bowls of Zayn’s cooked Asian cuisine that Niall could not get enough off. He hit the jackpot when dating Zayn, honestly.

“I know you went to see Louis.”

“Let me guess, he called you, his BFF.”

Zayn turned on his side, laying his head on his right hand with his eyes on his boyfriend’s side profile. “I can tell it bothers you, him being friends with me.”

“He’s not dating you.”

Zayn was taken aback. “I’d never date Louis, it’ll be like dating my brother—if I ever had one. Wait a minute, is this Liam all over again?”

“What do you mean Payno?”

“You thinking me and Liam had a thing.”

Niall groaned loudly into the night sky while covering his eyes for a moment or two. Zayn patiently waited as he screamed his frustration. He laid his free hand on Niall’s belly, underneath his peach shirt, feeling it move beneath his palm.

“I talked to him.”

And indeed Niall and Louis talked, well, Niall did most of the talking. He began by warning Louis that he should steer clear from Zayn and just because he made peace with his boyfriend did not mean anything to him. It was time to pull out favours that people from all over the place owed him.

Niall had a nice chat and told his favourite Immigration officer a lovely story of Liam’s party (“It must have been one hell of a party! It was front page news”) and one thing led to another, the meeting was over with one nice outcome: Louis could not leave the country. The moment his passport was signalled at the airport, the police would arrest him on charges of assault and among other things. Niall added by stating that now Louis would know how it felt to Zayn when he was stopped for “security checks.”

Second, Niall really _really_ wanted to help Briana have full custody of Freddie but he and Zayn got into a huge fight over it, one of their biggest fights (Eleanor supporting Zayn) and Niall relented and backed off, saying he would not do that to Louis. Plus, he could not leave England, therefore, could not see his son, so. Instead, Niall told him that because of what happened at Liam’s party, Louis’ family and Harry and Oli all have given him space which he said was punishment enough.

Niall came to discover something horrifying. At Liam’s party, Zayn had told him there was something he had wanted to tell him and at the hospital he did. It was that Louis was going to get Zayn kicked out of RCA because Simon Cowell had something that could publicly destroy Mr Harvey Berliner, the C.E.O of the company, and because image was everything, Mr Berliner would drop Zayn without notice. Zayn had been furious, very, and yelled at Louis for it but Louis could do nothing to prevent it as it was all Simon’s doing.

Niall had held his hand up as Louis explained himself, not wanting to hear anything about it how Zayn’s career was hanging on a balance. Zayn was leaving RCA and would be signing in Jay-Z’s label company, Roc Nation, as soon as his lawyer and Jay-Z were in the process of working out the finer details, making the transition as smooth as possible. Both Louis and Niall knew it would not be smooth and there would be a scandal the moment Zayn officially leaves RCA – it was just a matter of time.

For this, Niall warned him that if the transition did not come out favourable for Zayn, Niall would swear upon everything that Louis would not be able to produce music for as long as he lived.

“I wasn’t actually going to blackmail my best friend,” Louis had said.

“Yeah, right. You said you’d hurt Zayn and this looks like something you’ve been planning.”

So it continued. Niall demanded that Louis single-handedly pay Zayn all the money he took from him – if it was from his bank account or Simon’s he did not give a shit but he should pay it.

“Zayn will send the money right back.”

“Donate to his favourite charity. Buy him his favourite car. Burn the money, I don’t give a fuck,” he had yelled.

Truth be told, it would cause a dent in his bank account which was what Niall was aiming for. Niall made other demands, most of them small, others big, and finally the last one: the hiatus. Niall could not believe his ears when he said he was in agreement that the hiatus should stop being indefinite but definite. In other words, there would be no reunion of One Direction because as it were, the band was dead. Louis totally agreed. They would just need to discuss their agreement with Liam and Harry and, if they agreed (they each would persuade them as much as they could), One Direction, as they know it, would be dead and gone.

“Do you feel better?” asked Zayn, drawing Niall from his temporary thoughts with nonsensical symbols on his stomach.

“Not really,” admitted Niall. “But… he hurt you.”

“He hurt you, too.”

“Everybody hurts me but no one should hurt you,” said Niall, briefly glancing at Zayn, crowding his face for a kiss then back at the night sky. He smiled as a warm kiss was planted on his reddening cheek. “Does Tricia know about RCA?”

“I haven’t told anyone.”

Now Niall was laying on his side, both of their eyes locked on each other, their ankles threaded below them. “Why?”

“I don’t want to worry my mom. So much is going on with my parents, family and adding on about RCA will worry her about her sunshine across the pond.”

“Someone told me that parents never stop worrying,” he said, smiling in a sly manner at Zayn who immediately rolled his eyes. “She loves you, Zayn.”

Zayn hid his face in Niall’s neck in reply.

“Can we not talk about work? This is meant to be a date, after all.”

Zayn chuckled as he sat up, pouring himself some whiskey into a glass. “We have odd date conversations, not like tonight is different.”

“Let’s change it, then.”

“Okay. I do have something else to tell you.”

Niall pulled his shoulders back, asking, “What is it?”

“I heard back from the University of Melbourne,” Zayn said, gulping before continuing, “And I was accepted.”

Niall gasped before throwing himself at his boyfriend. He hugged him tightly, hands around his neck and muttering, _Congrats Snookums! I’m so proud of you!_ He pulled back, cupped his cheeks with utter joy and admiration. _This is so exciting!_ And hugged him some more, showering him with wet kisses.

“They sent me a message the day after Liam’s party,” said Zayn, “and I thought it was a joke but the more I stared at the message the more it dawned on me that this is real, it’s happening. All thanks to you.”

“Me?”

Zayn nodded. “If it weren’t for you I’d have never submitted my application to the University.”

“You deserve it. All of it, King Malik.”

“Thank you, Emperor Norah.”

They ate Zayn’s Tandoori chicken with biryani in comfortable silence, or rather, listening to new music from Zayn’s phone. Moreso, songs that Niall would not have on his playlist. Never.

“I’d rather watch the news than listen to dancehall, Snookums,” said Niall.

“It’s reggae, not dancehall,” he corrected, still not changing the music. Niall loudly slurped his Guinness. “Besides, the only reggae artist you know is Sean Paul.”

“Why not play _his_ songs?”

“Because his songs suck? Because it’s not true reggae music?”

“And this is?” he questioned, pointing his half-chewed chicken leg to Zayn’s iPhone. Zayn cocked his head to the right at Niall his mouth dancing as he chewed. Lucky for Niall, the song ended and next up was a Frank Ocean song, of course, but – better than reggae, really. “Why do Hip-Hop guys like having voice recordings on their album?”

Currently, it was _Be Yourself_ playing which had Frank Ocean’s mother advising him on the dangers of getting addicted to drugs and being yourself.

Zayn shrugged. “It’s pretty sick though. She makes sense.”

“She does?”

Zayn nodded. “Weed is addictive, and the other drugs. I told you I was on heroin because it was hard to stop.”

“The side effects were bad.”

“But this song sort of reminds me of you.”

Niall raised his eyes from his yummy chicken to Zayn sat opposite him on the blue and yellow blanket. “How?”

“You weren’t somebody else,” he told him. “From the moment we started the first tour, I was already doing drugs and I had barely done anything to warrant it. I was high on coke with Harry for most of the UAN tour, I was constantly saying ‘Yes’ to whatever drugs that Paul and Liam and the others were brought into the bus. But you always said no. You didn’t care about it while I was concerned with fitting in with the boys.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“You stuck to your beliefs, to your values and nothing swayed you. You remained you throughout One D and I.” Zayn ducked his head, lightly scratching his dark chin. He looked back up, to find Niall still gazing at him. “I admire you for it. You are always going to be bravest of us five.”

Niall smiled on the rim of his glass choosing to say nothing. But the compliment was making him feeling giddy and his brain oozed out of his ears. He stretched his hand, pulled Zayn by his shirt and smacked his lips with his.

“You’re wrong,” he whispered on his lips. Zayn pulled back and was about to ask _how_ but Niall was already answering. “You’re braver than I ever will.”

“How am I brave?”

“You left the band. But apart from that, recently you stood up for yourself to your family.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” he said and they both shared a smile. Zayn combed his fingers through his hair as he set down his bowl. “When we met, the first time after my leaving the band, you chose me.” He paused to swallow, searching for the right words to tell Niall. “You chose to meet me, you chose to talk to me, you chose to be my friend even when you knew the consequences of our meeting.”

“Of course I’d choose you.”

“You didn’t have to. Time after time, you’d stick up for me when I couldn’t and didn’t want to when literally nobody was there, you were. You got a lot of shit because of me.” Zayn wrapped his hands around Niall’s ankles and squeezed just a touch. “So I made a vow to always choose you.”

Niall was floored. His hold on his scrumptious drumstick was loose and it fell in with the other pile. Niall never doubted Zayn loved him but really, now he was sure, sure as heaven and hell. It was true, really, as he thought about it, that Zayn chose him. Zayn chose him when his family tortured him in Bradford, Zayn chose him when he knew money would be taken away from him, Zayn chose him when he was discovering himself, Zayn chose him always and for some reason that sounded a little better than _I love you_ because I love you’s were fleeting while choosing someone, over and over again, was powerful. Much more powerful.

“… this weekend.”

Niall blinked out of his thoughts. “What? What’s happening this weekend?”

“I’m going to home to Bradford.”

Niall’s hand froze with his fork midway to his mouth. “Why?”

“Because my mom asked me to come home? She’s my family?” Zayn responded as if Niall had suddenly grown ten heads.

“You can’t go. Remember what happened last time?”

“It’s my mom, Habibi.”

“She never did protect you.”

“She’s my mom, Niall. You don’t _leave_ family.”

Niall opened his mouth to retort, _Yours did_ , to protest that it was the same family that hurt him, inflicted scars – both those that could and could not be seen – because he was gay. _Just because_ he was gay. Zayn did not laugh often, smiles never made crinkles by his lips and his eyes did not sparkle with light as often as he would like, so if he found out that _he_ was part of that reason, part of the reason that was stopping his joy, his happiness, Niall would stop it immediately.

It did not mean he was a fan of it, especially when it came to Zayn’s dodgy family.

“Who’s going to be there?”

“Doniya and Jawaad will be. We’re going this weekend.”

“You call me, alright? Every hour, minute, I don’t care,” said Niall. His hand was holding tightly to his arm, lightly shaking it with every word. “Please?”

“I will… though not every minute,” he joked and Niall shook his head, his lips tugging upward. “We’re doing a horrible job of talking about date appropriate topics.”

Niall giggled around a mouthful of rice. “We’re not normal couples, after all. But what do normal couples talk about on dates?”

Zayn shrugged. “Uncle Google can help us. Or else we might end up talking about murder or how to itch your ass during a conference call.”

“That was a good date.”

“Embarrassing,” corrected Zayn as he typed on his phone. “We aren’t allowed back in that restaurant, Habibi. Ever.”

Niall shrugged nonchalantly. “What does Uncle Google say?”

“It’s only showing first date scenarios. Nothing about other dates.” Zayn gazed up from his phone. “Do you still want to go on?”

“Sure. It’ll be a bit like our best friend tag.”

“Good times,” said Zayn, smiling in memory. The said video was now had a staggering 826 million views and the number kept on rising daily.

The both of them moved inside Zayn’s house (“There are no stars, what’s the point of sitting outside?”) where they dumped their used bowls and glasses in the kitchen, Niall grabbing the tub of chocolate chip ice-cream tub and two spoons and settling himself comfortably by his boyfriend on the orange couch.

“These questions are from HuffPost,” began Zayn, flipping his phone toward Niall, and then back to look at the first question: “What do you do, and how long have you been doing it?” Zayn looked up at his phone. “Are we seriously asking this?”

“We don’t have to answer the obvious questions.”

Zayn nodded. “Next question:  is there anywhere you would love to live, other than here?”

Niall hummed as he thought of a response. “Australia, most definitely. You?”

“Belize because it’s breathtaking,” answered Zayn. “What do you love to do when you’re not working? Easy, this. Golf.”

Niall swallowed his spoonful of ice-cream. “Not just that. I love drinking Guinness.”

“And re-watching Harry Potter movies, endlessly singing to Taylor Swift as you shower and planting new flowers in your garden.”

“Taylor is amazing,” Niall defended, weakly. “But I do love painting my toenails. Working with different colours and shit.”

Zayn smiled, sparing a glance at Niall’s toes. “I like gold on you.”

Niall leaned forward and Zayn kissed him. “Thanks, Snookums. What about you?” Zayn was about to answer when Niall spoke again. “Oh let me guess, street racing.”

Zayn rolled his eyes at him. “Street racing involves other cars, Habibi, so technically no. But yeah, I love going for drives. It’s very relaxing. And cooking.”

“I like that you’re into pies now. You’re crazy good at them.”

“Thanks, Habibi. What is your absolute favourite food?”

“Chicken and sweet corn pie is my favourite. It feels like a hug.”

“Apart from what I make for you,” said Zayn. He took a bite of the ice-cream and Niall grimaced. It was weird how his boyfriend could ‘eat’ ice-cream as if his teeth were not affected by the coldness of it all.

“The pie.”

“Say something else so I can make it for you,” he said and Niall chewed on his bottom lip, eyes averted to somewhere behind Zayn.

“I—I like all food, to be honest. I can’t thi—oh! Chicken nuggets.”

Zayn’s brows raised. “Really?” Niall nodded, smiling around his spoon. “That’s—sort of an anti-climactic.”

“How?”

“It’s, I don’t know, I guess I thought you’d say Gajun Seafood Pasta, Bernaise sauce, Turducken, or even Beef Wellington, but you picked something simple. That’s not even a challenge.”

Niall gave him a funny look because what were those meals he had been listing? What even was Turducken? Was that really a meal? Or some exotic destination rich people flew to?

“I’m quite simple when it comes to food. What about you?”

“My mom makes the best Chole, chickpea curry, with bhatura and it’s my absolute favourite. She’d make it all the time when I went back home and it’s delicious. World-class cook, she is.”

“How Tricia did not enter Top Chef is beyond me.”

Zayn smiled proudly. “She doesn’t like fame. Next, if you could be any person for a day, who would it be?”

Niall scooped brown ice-cream onto his spoon. “You first.”

Zayn tilted his head in thought. “I’d say Bob Marley.”

“So we can choose dead people?”

“Question doesn’t say but I think so. Who would you say?”

“William Petty just because I’d be the first Irish PM. Do you know how fucking awesome that is?” gleed Niall.

“Politics isn’t my thing, to be honest,” admitted Zayn, scrolling down his phone for the next question. He asked him: What is the least favourite thing about your job?

“Eleanor quitting,” he said immediately. “I have to deal with Elena now. She’s great and all but… too into my face, like all the time.”

“M’sorry, Habibi.”

“It’s okay. I’m getting used to it. You?”

“Well apart from recently discovering that RCA can fire me because of some blackmail issues, I would say the looks I’d get from them whenever I would go to their office.”

“What do you mean?”

Zayn pouted in thought for a moment, Niall idly scooping ice-cream. “It’s probably in my head but whenever I’d go there it’d feel like I was being watched and gossiped about. It happened after the MTV thing.”

“As if you being gay was an issue?”

“Something like that. It just felt” –  he shrugged – “very uncomfortable,” he shrugged again dipping his spoon into the tub of ice-cream, “I don’t know. Maybe I was imagining it.”

Niall circled his friends on Zayn’s hand with the spoon. “Don’t do that, don’t make excuses for homophobic assholes because you know what it means, to make excuses for them? That you’re apologizing for who you are which is unacceptable for you.”

Words died on Zayn’s tongue, his eyes taking in Niall’s words, his serious face and move forward and locked their lips. He tasted the chocolate on his lips, the taste of acceptance on his tongue and he kissed him harder.

“Promise me you won’t apologize for yourself?” asked Niall, softly.

“I won’t. Wallahi.”

“You know what,” said Niall when they parted and he took his boyfriend’s phone, “I’m asking the questions now.” Zayn let him take his phone, smiling because now he could focus on eating his favourite ice-cream flavour: chocolate. “What if your favourite holiday?”

“Eid. You?”

“St. Patty’s Day.”

Zayn laughed. “Any excuse for beer, innit?”

Niall stuck out his tongue in response. “What is the most thoughtful gift you’ve ever received?”

A faint smile spread on Zayn’s lips before he answered. “I’d have to say Malfoy.” He takes a bite of the ice-cream. “What about you?”

“The first time you made love to me,” he answered with the most sincerity in his voice. “You looked at me like the world stopped moving. You took your time with me, the way you kissed every space and curve of my body when you looked at me as you filled me, you took care of me and thanks to you, I would’ve never felt was it was like to truly make love.”

Zayn’s pink lips parted, eyes blinking in surprise. “You’ve never….”

Niall was already shaking his head. “I tried but—nobody’s ever taught me how. There were times in the band when we’d be just talking and you’d all say how at times making love is better than fucking and…” he let his sentence peter out, shrugging at the same time he was shaking his head.

“What about Holly?”

“It was a quickie,” snorted Niall. “That’s how I lost my virginity, a quickie. I never knew that the first time is meant to be good, both of you are meant to be in it and— _feel good_. My first was fast and messy and ugly and it set the course for my sex life, I thought that that is how sex was. So when you four would take about making love and shit, I wondered what _I_ was doing wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong, Habibi.”

“So thank you for that gift,” he told his boyfriend and for once in his life, he did not care if his cheeks were red, red, red nor did he care when Zayn inched forward and kissed him deeply. After, he asked the next question: What do you like about dating?

“Currently,” Zayn began, looking interested in scooping out some ice-cream, “it’s having someone who inspires me. You?” He quickly occupied his mouth with the spoon. Niall smiled to himself because watching shy Zayn was a rare thing (the shy one between them was normally _him_ ).

“This is the first time I’ve properly dated,” said Niall, holding his gaze, “and so I don’t think I’ve got a lot of experience to choose from but,” he took a large inhale, “the best thing about dating for me is having someone at the end of the day to unwind with – whether on the phone or in person, laying on the couch, eating chocolate ice-cream” – they both chuckled, – “it’s  lovely and it’s one of the best feelings in the world.”

“Me too, Habibi.” They shared a secret smile before Niall, cleared his throat and Zayn went back to chewing on ice-cream. The next question was: do you prefer salty snacks or dessert? “Easy. Dessert.”

“That’s cause you have a massive sweet tooth,” laughed Niall. “You seriously need your dentist on speed dial.” Zayn stuck out his tongue in protest. “And I prefer salty snacks, duh.” He took a scoop of ice-cream as he scrolled down looking for the next question. “What is one skill you wish you could be better at?” He looked up at Zayn’s phone. “This is a dumb question because you’re good at everything.”

“Not the cello.”

“Of all the instruments to play…”

“Shut up, you ass, it’s a great instrument.”

Niall rolled his eyes in reply.

“What about you?”

“Golf. Next question: what is the best single piece of advice you’ve ever received?”

“It’s not really advice but a song lyric by P!nk and it goes: _The quiet scares me cause it screams the truth_.”

Niall frowned, mouth around a spoon. “What does that mean?”

“I was alone for a long time and I retreated away from everyone. Shut the door and no one was banging on it, one of the reasons I always disappeared to Belize. But last year was the worst because I was by myself and alone and lost and it was just… quiet. Silent.”

“You wanted to be alone whenever you went to Belize.”

“Maybe I didn’t,” Zayn whispered into the large living room.

“Early this year before I unblocked you on Twitter,” he began, filling the silence between them, “El would find me going through your Twitter feed, scrolling down you Instagram and FB feeds, and I think she had had enough. The day I unblocked you she told me, “ _forget everybody for a moment, Niall. It’s your life, do what you want._ ” and that’s been the best piece of advice this year.”

“I’m glad you listened to her.”

“When did you know you loved your boyfriend?”

Zayn narrowed his eyes, his lips quirking into a smirk. That was definitely not a question on the website but he went along with it. “When we kissed at that house party in Florida. I… was pissed at Frank for trying to win you over, then we kissed and, fuck, didn’t want to stop kissing you, Niall. It was all I could think about, kissing you, all the time, every single time and, for a moment, I wondered what it would like to be with you.”

Niall was smiling so much he swore it would split his face.

“It was honestly the scariest moment of my life. Not in a bad way,” he hastily added, “but in a—”

“Like the sky fell down?”

“Something like that.” Zayn smiled dopily at him. “You?”

“For me, it was when I went to your place in L.A. for the first time.”

“With the pretext of having a siesta cuisine. You’re a damn liar, Niall.” Zayn was cackling and Niall buried his face into the couch, the memory haunting him. “But… that was ages ago. You knew that whole time?”

Niall chewed on his bottom lip. “Falling in love with your best friend is one of those things that happen in movies not—in real life. I was… I hated Gigi so much,” Niall chuckled because honestly, he really, really, did. He had deleted her from his life, anyway. “Because she was with you and I was… your friend.”

“ _Best_ friend.”

“Not then. And besides, you are the Zayn Malik and I’m some pale Irish dude, why would you love me?”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding too serious for Niall's ears. He responded by hiding his face behind his boyfriend’s phone as Zayn squeezed his calf.

“If you could be an animal, which animal would you be?”

“Tiger.”

“I’ll be true to my House and say snake.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Typical.”

“What’s a New Year’s resolution you have stuck to?”

“I taught myself how to play the guitar.”

“I did something new which was gardening,” said Niall, proudly.

“There are many things you’ve done that are new,” Zayn pointed out, “such as coming out.”

“I didn’t think I was gay in January,” he chuckled, “but yeah, I guess I did more than one thing that was new this year.”

“My turn.” Zayn snatched his phone from his boyfriend’s grasp. “I’ve eaten half the tub of this ice-cream and I get the feeling I’ll finish it.”

“More for me!”

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he mumbled as he scrolled down the questions where the answers would not be as obvious. “If you could travel back and live in any period of time, when would it be?”

“In real life or fantasy?”

“Fantasy?”

“Like in Harry Potter o—”

“I’ll stop you right there. In real life, obviously.”

Niall winked at him in reply as he thought about his answer. “I’d say 1782 when William Petty was the Prime Minister.”

“Of course. For me, it would be during the Elizabethan era when one of the greatest poets was alive, William Shakespeare. So basically in the 1590s.”

“If you could go back to your 20-year-old self, what would you tell him?”

“Do what makes you happy,” said Zayn, a little forcefully if Niall was hearing properly. “Fuck what anyone says and smile a lot more.”

The ends of Niall’s lips tugged up slow. “Sage advice.” Zayn chewed on ice-cream in reply. “I would say…” An idea struck him and he looked dead on at his boyfriend, a shade of pink dusting his cheeks and he licked his lips. “You’re going to fall in love with your best friend just like in the movies.”

“Idiot,” was what came out of Zayn’s mouth and what came afterwards was a passionate kiss, with Zayn’s fingers carding themselves into Niall’s cotton hair on the back of his neck. Niall opened his warm mouth for him, humming happily into his mouth. “Huge sap, you.”

“You love it.” He pecked his boyfriend’s lips before drawing back. “But on a serious note, I’d tell my 20-year-old self is not to grow up. These are the good ol’ days and you’ll miss the magic.”

“Live in the moment…”

“Yeah,” was on the tip of Niall’s tongue but his breath caught. That line sounded familiar, very familiar that, furrowing his brows furiously, he could almost pinpoint who said such a line. But who?

“Louis.”

“Huh?”

“You asked why it sounded familiar,” said Zayn, “and it’s Louis.”

Of course! That was why it sounded familiar. “No, not like that. Not at all.” He scratched his jaw as he thought of what to say, what to say that will not sound like he was quoting (the asshole) Louis. “To remember that we’re growing old. Or up. Depends on how you look at it.”

Zayn maintained their gaze before he pursed his lips, darting to look down at the almost-empty tub of ice-cream. “Growing old.”

“What?”

“It’s growing old, not up. They say don’t grow up, don’t lose your fun, your essence, the child in you because apparently life will fuck you so hard you lose that part of you.”

Niall’s lips parted just slightly. He had nothing to say, really. It was nothing but this moment felt monumental, as if Zayn was talking from something in his past, drawing wisdom from experience and knowledge. If he was being honest, he did not know what to say and, in horror, he was speechless.

And for some reason he remembered that Macklemore has a song titled _Growing up_.

He got off the couch, slowly pulling a puzzled and full of ice-cream Zayn with him. Together, they were standing, chest-to chest, his hands on the small of Zayn’s back and Zayn automatically circled his arms round his warm shoulders.

Niall swayed Zayn’s hips to the left, their feet stumbling at first and Zayn’s hands clutching his shoulder’s for support. He got the memo and he moved his hips, rather he moved them slowly left to right, just like earlier in the evening.

“I’m sorry for suggesting that you meant ‘Live in the moment’, it wasn’t right,” he said, after moments of silence passed between them.

Niall shook his head on his shoulder. “Wasn’t you. It’s my issue with Louis and I was a baby about it.”

“Are you two going to work it out?” asked Zayn. Niall could hear the hesitation in his voice but it went over his head. He was slowly falling asleep on Zayn’s shoulders, the hold on his boyfriend’s hips loosening and his body weight leaning heavily on him. “Niall?”

Niall made a hum.

“You’re not sleeping are you?”

Niall made another hum.

“Time to sleep, Habibi,” said Zayn. He scooped Niall in a bridal style and walked to his bedroom, gently dropping Niall onto his large, circular bed.

He had been gone for just five minutes (locking the doors and turning on the alarm, turning off the lights, checking on Malfoy curled in the library (his favourite spot) to make sure he is alright and carrying Marley (his hedgehog) to his bedroom) yet Niall was snoring on his bed. He smiled fondly at his boyfriend before settling Marley down at her spot by the corner, curled in on a pile of his and Niall’s hoodies.

“Habibi,” he quietly called, shaking his boyfriend’s shoulders. Niall made a sound. “Wake up, you’ve got to brush your teeth.” Niall made a non-agreeing sound. “C’mon, it’ll take two minutes.”

“Sleepy.”

“It won’t take long, promise.”

Niall batted Zayn’s hand off his face but as he was sleepy it was a touch if anything. “Sleep.” But Niall popped his eyes open coming face to face with Zayn hovering above him. “Your bed is so comfortable.”

Laughter rippled out of Zayn’s lips. “Are you trying to get out of brushing your teeth?”

Niall stuck out his tongue in reply.

“I kiss your mouth in the morning, just so you know.”

Niall made kissy sounds, then said, “You’ve never complained before.”

“You always brushed your teeth,” he pointed out.

Niall opened his sleepy eyes fully, gazing up at his boyfriend. Warmth spread all over his body, knowing full well his cheeks were dusted with red, red. In a flash, he circled his arms around Zayn’s shoulders, effectively pulling him down with an _oof_ , landing in the middle of Niall’s chest.

Zayn gave in and Niall purred – actually purred – in happiness and when he woke up, the following day, in the same happiness when Zayn, with no inhibitions, kissed him, open-mouthed with tongue and morning breath. Niall was so floored, his brain melting inside of him, and the morning sex they had had Zayn walking side to side the whole day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter of 2018 ! 
> 
> sorry that it's late updating, the document had issues of editing, lost half the chapters /= but solved most of the issues & here we are. Hope this was of a calming down chapter compared to the last one but you know me, i. love. drama ! [;  
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly appreciated, good and bad vibes are all good ☻
> 
> TAKE CARE SONS !! ♦


	34. But Now We're Stressed Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziall get candid with each other after a row in Bradford.

 

> _**There ain’t nothing you can say, that will scare me away** _   
>  _**I got history too** _   
>  _**So hurt with me** _   
>  _**I’ll hurt with you** _   
>  _**Baby, you know we can hurt together** _   
>  _**~ Sia** _

 

“Is this what happens, then, once we get into a relationship we miss so much of each other’s lives?” Niall questioned. He was standing outside the fitting rooms of Victoria’s Secrets one somewhat sunny Saturday, waiting for Eleanor to try on what she would be wearing tonight.

“We got busy, Nini,” her voice echoed through the thick pink curtains.

Niall leans back onto the black wall, his hold tightening on several items of lacy underwear. It was the weekend when his hunk of a boyfriend was going to Bradford to visit his family and Niall had not stopped biting his nails, running his fingers through his hair and generally freaking out over him going to the very place he had been tortured by Yaser and his cousins.

He took a deep breath in, then out. Zayn was going to be fine, he was stronger than he gave him credit for. However, that did not ease his heart.

“We’ve been busier before,” he pointed out.

With all the drama from the past several days, Niall was more than happy to immerse himself back to work, and work he did. He had contacted Ed for the song he was going to dedicated to Zayn and they began writing it and as of yesterday, it was complete. Niall promised to Skype with Ed later in the evening to do the final touches to the song before Niall would send it to Elena and Steve for approval – well, not exactly approval because Niall made it clear this love song was his next single, end of discussion.

Not only that, Niall had had a killer soundtrack to produce for the great Christopher Nolan for the upcoming war movie _Dunkirk_. Nolan had requested Niall to compose his version of the hymn _Nearer my God to Thee_ and, if he remembered correctly, that song had been played in the movie _Titanic_. That evening, Niall watched the movie (very proud of himself for not bawling in the scene when Jack died as Rose slept), downloaded the Original Soundtrack… went ahead to download countless versions of _Nearer my God to Thee_ that his ears were ringing with the words _though like the wanderer, the sun gone down_ on a loop.

At last, after several (failed) attempts at producing a kickass soundtrack for a defining movie, he sought help. With the help of his director friend, David Yates, he got into contact with BYU Vocal Point and thereafter it was paradise. They had already done a version of the hymn but it was not something that Nolan would love – Niall just knew – and he suggested if they sing some parts in Latin and include Acapella even (Eleanor had told him to stop watching _Pitch Perfect_ ) and with all these ideas, they did come with a kickass song he was honestly proud of himself – and thanked the BYU Vocal Point immensely.

Of course, it was not enough if Nolan did not like it. He was still awaiting for his response but if Harry was to be believed, it would be good news.

“You have a lot on your plate, so do I, it’s just part of life.” Eleanor cut through his thoughts. He sighed loudly, his eyes travelling to the ceiling and chiding himself for biting the skin near his thumb nail.

Speaking of soundtracks, Niall was soon making a name for himself with being a composer for movies enough that television shows were looking his way. Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, David Arnold and Michael Price had been in contact with him, stating they would like to collaborate with him on composing a whole soundtrack for the new season of _Sherlock_ debuting in January, next year. Niall was beyond stoked, a new opportunity for him to compose, to play around with instruments he had no idea he would ever touch in his lifetime, get a chance to play (and making a mental note to watch the previous three seasons of _Sherlock_ ) and they requested Niall compose something from scratch and would take a listen.

Arnold had patted him on the back, stating that Gatiss and Moffat loved his works (anyone who had a recommendation from Yates was a big deal after all) and it was all just formality. Niall was smiling like a goofball the entire time, anyway, so he did not register what they actually said.

“S’not fair,” he breathed another heavy sigh.

Eleanor popped her head out of the heavy curtains. “Done.” She pulled Niall into the ultra pink fitting room and twirled on the spot, her arms open wide like an eagle. “What do you think?”

“Niall loves!” He smirked, looking at her lacy yellow lingerie hugging her figure. “But yellow? Really?”

“Black Thor likes yellow – his favourite colour.”

“Yellow it is.” He lifted the many items of underwear in his hands. “Are you taking these as well?”

“Of course!”

Nearly an hour later, they found themselves sitting side by side on his couch, waiting for _Gogglebox_ to begin. Niall, having sat through Eleanor deciding whether she wanted lace or silk, worked up an appetite and had driven them to the nearest Pizza Hut and ordered for four large pizzas and large sodas which, if he was not ignoring Eleanor in the car, was two pizzas too much.

And salad. For Eleanor.

“You’re exaggerating!”

“I sat through years and years just for you to decide that you want _both_ silk and lace,” grunted Niall, munching on his delicious slice of pizza. “Both, El. _Both!_ ”

“A girl needs to have her options.” She chewed determinedly on her slice of vegetable pizza.

“I hope he’s worth it. When’s the said date?” he asked.

“Monday.”

“That’s… odd,” mumbled Niall in between mouthfuls. “Why Monday?”

“It’s his off day.”

 _Gogglebox_ began, finally, much to Eleanor’s chagrin because, unlike Niall, she did not understand the concept of the show. The show, in its essence, was a reality TV show that showed others watching other TV shows. It’s much more than that, Niall would always add. Often they would get into heated debates, Niall, on one hand, arguing that reality shows were for entertainment, and Eleanor arguing it was a dumb concept for a reality show, that they were better off watching _Keeping Up With the Kardashians_.

“That old hag?” squawked Niall during a commercial.

Eleanor bit into her pizza, chewing as a Colgate commercial played, then swallowed. “Kim’s a businesswoman, Ni. At least, we’ll be getting business ideas not feeding our brains with trash.”

“Got famous for using her body.”

“The fame industry is cut-throat, Nini. You do anything to survive.”

That earned a chuckle from Niall. As he popped opened a Guinness, he said, “I didn’t fuck my way to the top.”

“Quoting Lana, are we?”

“Don’t you think women have it easier? I mean, they can just sleep around—” He never did finish his statement as his mouth was slapped. With a pizza. Yes, Eleanor pizza-slapped him. He did not do anything apart from stare, with jaw hanging, Guinness froze in his left hand, blinking slowly at realization with pizza slice sliding down his face. “What the fuck, El?”

“How dare you insinuate that women sleep all the way to the top!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he grunted, wiping off pizza residue off his face with his T-shirt. “I just meant that when the truth comes out, more often than not, women are caught having slept with the boss to get where they are. I don’t mean every woman,” added Niall defensively and looking warily at the new slice in her hand, “but I’m just saying, statistically, it’s more likely women than men.”

She munched angrily. “As if men aren’t sluts.”

“Of course they are. There _are_ men sluts.” He swallowed the pizza in his mouth. “But those women lose self-respect along the way, integrity, professionalism and those values and you don’t get that same satisfaction when you’re at the top.”

“Have you ever considered it? Sleeping with someone to get to the top?”

Niall shook his head. “Not once. People have their reasons but I like to know I got where I am on my own devices, not someone else’s.”

“I agree. Imagine the worst that can happen is when you do sleep with your boss, they’ll have this power hanging over you, some sort of control of your professional career.”

“Exactly,” he said, mid-chew. “And everything comes to light in the end. Apart from that, how can you live with yourself knowing that you are where you are not on your merits but.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Who knows, we all do whatever it is to survive, right?”

“Cut-throat.”

The commercials were over and it was back to _Gogglebox_. They watched the TV show as they munched on their pizzas and drinks, Niall chatting happily on how great the show is, Eleanor countering back with _at least we’re not watching_ Harry Potter _for the billionth time_.

Night time fell and with Niall not wanting to sleep just yet, they decided to have a horror movie marathon starting with _Insidious._ He had been texting Zayn all day, receiving one-word replies until Zayn texted him that all was fine and he should stop worrying. Yet 17 minutes later, Niall texted him, again.

It was at around 3 in the morning when they fell asleep on each other on the couch, exhaustion catching up with them. They were jolted awake when the doorbell rang some time at the crack of dawn, according to Eleanor but really, it was just before nine o’clock.

Niall stretched, mumbling gibberish as he cracked a few bones on his shoulders and spine then headed to the door, shuffling his feet sleepily. On the other end of it was his boyfriend, standing there wrapped tightly in a leather jacket, black skinnies and heavy black boots. His hair was a messy flop to his left and his nose ring missing.

Niall stepped over the doorway in the morning chill, kissing his boyfriend in lieu of a ‘Good morning’. “Hey Snookums, what happened to your nose ring?”

Zayn absentmindedly touched his nose with his index finger as if forgetting it was missing. “I don’t…”

Niall gazed at his boyfriend before blinking several times. Something was off – well, of course, something was off, as it always was whenever he went home to Bradford – but something was way off. He took the one step closer, not bothered that his socks were going to get horrible grass stains nor by his Harry Potter PJ bottoms, and cupped his boyfriend’s cheek, cold to the touch.

“How did it go?”

Zayn let out a bitter laugh, his eyes having not once landed on Niall for more than half a second. He seemed shifty, from one foot to another, nervously tapping his left fingers against his skinny jeans.

“I’m still.” Zayn bowed his head, his hair flopping over his face. A moment later, he shook his head carding his fingers through his silky black hair. “I’m still processing what happened. I don’t know how I feel but,” he took an unsteady inhale, “you should call your father. Bobby.”

Niall deeply frowned. “Why? What happened to him?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying you should call him.”

“What happened when you went home, Snookums?” he asked, partially wondering if Zayn was truly okay.

“I’m not okay,” he answered his question, belatedly realizing he had aired his thoughts. “I won’t be for a long time.”

“You should come in, eat something.”

Zayn shook his head, then pointing at him with his thumb. “I’m heading home, actually.” Behind him, over on the road was Zayn’s sleek Audi and behind it was a blue moving truck. “We’ve been on the road for ages and I’m sleepy.”

“Why is there a moving truck?” he asked, curiously. His alarm bells were going off. Something was very, very off and it was as if Zayn was filtering what to tell him and what not to and it was worrying Niall greatly.

“Call your father, Niall.”

Niall crossed his arms over his chest. “Why should I?”

Zayn’s whiskey eyes held his and Niall deflated internally. He looked wearied down, his eyes full of palpable unhappiness, he looked as if he was about to fall on his knees with it.

“Bobby made a mistake once,” said Zayn, his voice slower than usual, “and you’ve been holding it against him ever since.”

“Rightfully so,” he said defensively, also wondering when they began discussing Bobby.

“Bobby loves you, immensely, and he’s so, so proud of you, proud of being your son even if you are gay. Your relationship with your father is, however, you want it to be but don’t blame the split in your family on him anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I guarantee you that if you picked up the phone and called him, he would answer.” He bowed his head. “Allah knows mine won’t.”

“What?” he asked, shocked. “What do you mean Yaser won’t answer? What happened?” Zayn looked at him for some time that Niall thought he would not answer him until he eventually did.

“I am not my father’s son. But,” he added quickly before Niall could interrupt, “you do and one day will come when you’ll dearly miss him.”

Niall snorted. “That will never happen.”

“Remember the overdose scare?” he reminded him. “When Maura called, crying on the phone and you did too? It was then that I knew, deep down, you love Bobby, despite what you always say.”

Niall held his tongue, opting to neither rebuke nor comment on that statement. How could he forget that day? What he remembered was threatening his father to not overdose because he was not worthy of Maura’s time.

“People often treat their parents like shit, forgetting they’re growing old and you’re going to miss them when they’re gone.” Zayn looked up at Niall from where he was looking at the sunny sunflowers by his house. “Lie to yourself all you want but deep down you know your father loves you; he would be delighted to hear from you, to have his son back. You love Bobby, Niall, and I guarantee you that if you call him,” – he visibly swallowed – “he will answer your phone call.”

“Why do you keep saying if I call him?”

“Or fly to Mullingar, shoot him a text, I don’t fucking care, he will answer you because mine won’t,” he said, the last part of his sentence said in a whisper.

“Why wouldn’t Yaser talk to you?”

Zayn’s eyes watered suddenly and Niall blinked in a jolt. “Please call him. Call Bobby before it’s too late.”

Niall took a small step towards his boyfriend. “Zayn….”

His boyfriend hurriedly wiped his cheeks from the tracks rolling down. “I’m going home, to my library and stay there for centuries because my entire body is screaming to go to Belize—”

“—Please don’t!”

Zayn smiled, albeit small and empty. “But if I do I don’t think I’ll ever leave, not this time. So I’ll be there… I’ll call you soon. Don’t forget Bobby.”

And no, what the fuck? He jumped on his spot and jogged to Zayn, circling his arms around him and burying his head on the back of Zayn’s neck.

“I can’t let you walk away because you’re not in a good state and I’m worried.”

Zayn leaned into Niall’s chest. “I’ll be okay.”

Niall hugged him tighter around his middle. “It’s okay not to be, Snookums. I don’t know what happened with Yaser and your family but I can’t—can’t bear to see you like this.” He pressed his forehead to Zayn’s neck. “Stay, please.”

“I need some time alone,” said Zayn, squeezing Niall’s hand that was resting on his stomach. “To wrap my head around everything.”

“I’ll think about the Bobby thing,” he promised, seeing as it was, at this moment, the only thing he could give to his boyfriend.

Zayn squirmed on the spot, turning around so he was standing before his boyfriend, their eyes searching for each other. Niall loosened his embrace enough for Zayn to lift up his arms and curl his fingers on the back of his neck, lightly playing with his brown hair on the base of his neck.

“I’m so in love with you, Niall James Horan.”

His hand was firm on Niall’s neck as he inched forward and locked their lips. Niall’s hands were low laying on his hips and they slipped beneath his leather jacket and shirt to feel on the firm, warm skin there. Zayn parted their lips and deeply kissed him, Niall pulling Zayn flush against his chest. His palms were sweaty on Zayn’s hips, heart hammering against his ribs he swore Zayn could feel it on his tongue and his knees weak. They continued for long moments, searching each other’s mouths, Niall having missed the taste of him, of his delightful boyfriend… and tasting something sugary.

“Please don’t tell me you ate gummy bears for three hours straight.”

“Not all three,” mumbled Zayn on his lips, heavily breathing. “Just nearly the whole trip.”

Niall rubbed his nose with him, softly. “That answers my question.”

Zayn lowered his head onto Niall’s shoulder and hugged him tightly, tighter than ever and instead of floating like cotton candy in Zayn’s hug, all it did was break his heart, slowly. Something horribly had gone wrong, tipped his universe upside down and Zayn pleading with him to call Bobby was just the tip of an iceberg… that much he was sure of.

His entire being screamed for his legs to run after his Audi, to stop Zayn and demand what went wrong but his brain knew Zayn needed time alone to process because he would shut down anyway. With his head down, he walked back home when the blue truck disappeared around the corner and closed the door behind him.

Immediately, he picked up the phone and called Jawaad, the one who he knew would tell him what happened. Truthfully. In summary, it was true that Zayn had no family because the Maliks abandoned Zayn, one of their own.

Niall insisted on _what happened exactly, Jawaad!_ He had been hesitant on the phone, not wanting to say much but Niall was known for his temper… and impatience when it came to, well, others.

Tricia had called the whole family for a talk (to put it lightly) to patch the loose ends and continue being the family they always were. She had cooked for two days straight – literally the minute _her sunshine_ was coming home – with masala lamb chops, marinating her chickens, pasta salad, chicken and spinach, biryani, chutney… and she loved every minute of it.

 _The food was excellent_ , said Jawaad and Niall grunted on the phone – half exasperation (Jawaad was going on in a tangent as always) and half blissful (he knew how _good_ Tricia’s cuisines tasted) but his madness grew because he was dying to know what happened in Bradford.

 _It went out of control very fast_ , Jawaad said. One minute they were laughing about something Walihya had said and the next Yaser was denying his son, stating he could not house a gay son, could not be associated with someone corrupted with the Western values, could not be a father to a son who had strayed from the values that Allah teaches, and above all, a son who was dating Niall Horan.

“What’s wrong with me?” he questioned.

 “ _He did say your name but you know it didn’t matter if Zayn was dating Shahrukh Khan or Akshay Kumar, it wouldn’t matter. Well, sort of._

“Sort of? How is Aks… Someone or that other guy better?”

_Shahrukh Khan! And they’re cool actors but most of all, they’re religious._

Niall, a little taken aback, asked what that had to do with anything. Jawaad explained that from an early age they were brought up the Islam way, the values, beliefs, customs of marriage, et cetera, and in no way was dating someone who did not believe in a Higher Power fall into that gender, no less someone of the same sex.

“I’m a Christian,” he defended.

_And I’m a Jew… You’re not kidding anyone, Niall._

“I am a Christian… just. I’ve put religion on hold,” he said, struggling to find what his religious stand was at the moment. “I’m not proud of it but… that’s between me and God. Anyway, what happened next?”

Thereafter, Yaser said if his son was to stick to his abomination way of life and seeing as he failed to kick out the gay in him, he would get rid of it completely. It was then the table fell silent. Yaser did not stammer his words, holding his son’s gaze at the end of the table, Tricia’s eyes watered slowly as she looked on at her husband of oh so many years, both of his sisters stared back between their father and brother and the youngest, Safaa, blinked at everyone, wondering why no one was helping themselves to more chicken tikka because it was so, so delicious.

Zayn stood up, unable to look at anyone directly, sniffing a couple of times, and walked out and just before he reached the archway, his father, unable to look his way, ordered for him to pack his belongings and never return.

“He was joking, right?” pleaded Niall, gripping his phone tightly. “Please tell me Yaser was joking.” He knew it, he knew Jawaad was not lying but some part of his brain hoped he was. “Please.”

_Dead serious, Niall. I helped him pack, or rather, Tricia and I packed as he sat at his study table, staring into nothingness, and by midnight, we were done. Completely._

By completely, Jawaad meant everything had been packed into the truck that Zayn had silently handed the phone to Jawaad to call the moving company. He walked down the stairs, and found his father by the door, holding it wide open. Zayn apologized, for what felt like the thousandth time, and yet none of it went through to Yaser. Not a single apology.

 _In Urdu, Yaser told him to not bother calling because he won’t pick up, to not bother coming to Bradford lest he stains everyone with his homosexuality and to never consider him, Tricia, nor his three sisters as family_.

Niall’s throat dried as his cheeks wet with fat rolls of tears. He pulled the phone away from his ear, his sobs bubbling in his throat and coming out in hiccups and croaks. He sobbed for a moment longer, Jawaad on the other end waiting patiently. While the two of them bicker and argue and insult each other a lot, they _do_ get along, especially when it came to Zayn.

“What happened next?” he barely asked, his words muffled by his crying.

 _… nothing_.

“What happened after Jawaad?” he demanded.

_Yaser shut the door in his face and he stood there, barely moving. I could hear crying over the end, I think Tricia or someone, and Zayn did not move._

“How… long? How long was he out there for?”

_Until Safaa told him to leave because he was making Mom cry. And only then, did he._

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

“How could you let him walk away?” Niall shouted as he stepped into Doniya’s London apartment. “How could you just sit and let your father disown your brother? Do you feel nothing for him?”

“Please, come in.” Doniya shut the door coolly, not at all bothered by Niall relentlessly ringing her doorbell for minutes, storming into her home nor yelling at the top of his voice. “I see Zayn told you.”

“It was Jawaad actually.”

Niall crossed his arms on his chest, angrily staring at Doniya, mouth in a downward scowl and… well, he had never been in this situation before but generally when Niall was ever sending daggers at the other person, they tended to cave and talk first. Except, this was Doniya, part of the Malik family who generally seemed to be unaffected by Niall’s daggers (if Zayn and Tricia are anything to go by) so obviously Doniya would not be moved.

“Do you have a reason for waking me up at this ungodly hour?”

“How could you let Zayn walk away?” he yelled. “How could you let your father do that to him? Do you not remember what he did to him last month?”

“I understood why my father did what he did,” said Doniya, her tone neutral which made Niall madder because _whattheactualfuck_. “He was helping my brother to be… who he was before _you_ happened.”

Niall bit down on his jaw. “Yaser hurt him.”

“He failed to transform him,” Doniya countered. She crossed her leg over her knee and placed her hand on it. “To enable him to get away from his heathen, worldly ways—”

“You’re saying a bunch of bullshit,” growled Niall, irritated by Doniya’s nonchalant attitude. “You did transform him alright, into something that can’t be fixed. Zayn’s forever broken with the mentality that being gay is vile, that it’s offensive and his family – _his own fucking family_ – who are meant to love him no matter what, _do not_.”

“With good reason.”

“You don’t love someone because they murdered someone, raped someone, or I don’t know, something horrible; not for who they are. I just got him to accept himself and Yaser is driving him back into who he was before which was nothing but self-loathing”

“You drove him to what he is. If you never came to Bradford after Billboards, if you never talked to him after the four of you banished him from One D if you had let him stay gone… maybe he would be family.” Doniya took a shaky inhale. “But he isn’t and you’re responsible for that, for breaking our family, Niall.”

“Yaser broke your family.”

“No!” It was her turn to shout. “It was you, Niall. You’re horrible and vicious and you only think about yourself. Do you even have any idea what happened? That night when he was packing?”

Niall swallowed.

Doniya scoffed. “Obviously you don’t because you don’t care about anyone else. You only care about what Zayn means to you not the other way round; from the start, it’s always been you, you, you because you can’t help it, you’re selfish, it’s who you are.”

“I care plenty about him!”

“When he was packing, my mom did not once stop crying and my dad, for the first time in years, was the saddest he had ever been.” Doniya’s eyes were watery. “He remained at the table, looking like a statue when all of us left. Safaa shouted angrily at Zayn to stop packing and apologize to Dad because Dad is sad and it was all his fault. Walihya begged him to stop packing, removing his comic books from the cartons and demanding that he breaks up with you. And me? I couldn’t do anything to stop my mom from crying but he’s stubborn and he packed anyhow.”

“It’s…” Niall stumbled, “not his fault.”

“It’s his fucking fault! My mom did not stop crying the whole fucking night and my dad spent the night in the den, drinking himself silly. Walihya was making a list of ways to kill you and Safaa,” she stopped, sharply turned to her right side, unable to look at Niall any longer.

Niall uselessly opened and closed his mouth, words failing him and looked at the pale green archway leading into the kitchen. He knew Safaa was the most liked in the family by everyone and hence everyone being extra nice to her (and also being the last born of the family). He could not help but imagine how awful it was when Safaa had told Zayn to leave.

“And Safaa hates Zayn.”

“Zayn.” Niall let out a long-suffering sigh. “This is going to kill him. You can’t just decide you don’t want him.” He was desperate now, he knew it and Doniya knew it. He was losing this fight but Niall was not a quitter. Not now, and most certainly not for his boyfriend. “I’m sorry.”

Doniya rolled her eyes. “Please! What good will that do to my family? Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

“But everything that he is, everything that he’s done, all that he has done for his family, you’re going to let it pass?” he questioned and Doniya stared back, unmoved. “He’s done nothing but loves all of you and now, now when he needs his family, you leave him? You walk away because he’s gay? How fucked is that?”

It was evident that Doniya was done with the conversation and Niall wished to vent, to lash out at Doniya, to beg her to have Zayn back, to cry because the Maliks were _so frustrating_ but most of all, he wanted them to accept Zayn. None of the things he wished for would come true so he opted for another strategy.

“My father…” he began. He felt something foreign as he said the word to describe Bobby but because Doniya did not know who Bobby was, he had to say who he was and it felt, well, foreign. “… left when I was young and I absolutely hated him because he left Ma, left my brother and he left me. He left his family because—because he just did. And I loathed him for the destruction he left behind.”

“I don’t care about your sob story.”

Niall ignored her. “The thing about hate is that it’s paralysing. You spend so many years hating someone for something they did to you in your lifetime like I did with my father for the divorce, and for years, I carried that hate in my heart. Hate carries so many other emotions such as blinding anger, betrayal, loss, and you feel revenge constantly, you want to make them feel just as bad as they made you feel.”

Doniya remained stark silent at Niall’s pause. He slowly closed his eyes, uncurling, stretching then curling his fingers, taking short inhales.

“But here’s the thing, Doniya, hatred cannot drive out hatred, only love. Years from now, whether it be two years or eleven, Zayn will have come to peace with his family abandoning him for being gay and the rest of you will still loathe him for it.” He looked at her dead in the eyes, them burning with fire. “But mark my words, Doniya, I will love the fuck out of him and you’re going to watch him be his best self from the sidelines and I swear with all my being if you dare – _dare_ – touch a _hair_ on his precious head, I fucking swear I will rip your head off your body, not just you, but your entire family.”

Doniya’s eyes widened with shock and surprise that for moments she was speechless. Niall continued to look at her, not once stuttering nor stammering and with every fibre of his being, meant everything he had vowed.

“Why would we want anything to do with that faggot?” she spat.

Niall's shoulders slumped back, his mouth opening then pursed his lips. This was a dying conversation, now a one-way conversation, and honestly, there was nothing else he could do about Zayn’s family apart from letting _this_ ride out.

“You have an unprecedented brother, Doniya,” he said for his last words. “It’s such a pity that you’ll not get to see what he will become and who he will be.”

Doniya visibly inhaled her chest moving outward and her shoulders straightening. She moved her lips, as if to speak, but pressed them together and resolutely stared back at Niall.

Niall cleared his throat, nodded once at Zayn’s sister, stepped back from where he had been standing and headed for the door. He heard footsteps following him from behind and a part of his heart settled a little because walking off was sending his heart beats through the roof.

Stepping out of her apartment, he turned on the spot to face her, a thousand words spinning of what to say, what to say that could make a difference but she was stone-faced and one hand on her hip and Niall knew it was all too late.

He had spent a moment too long just thinking, organizing his thoughts that Doniya beat him to it by saying, “Goodbye, Niall,” and the door shut in his face as his jaw hanged from his mouth.

 

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

 

“Not dressed yet?” asked Niall, accepting a bottle of beer from his boyfriend.

“Not showered,” Zayn corrected.

“You’re going to take forever now. I have a magical afternoon planned.”

Niall tipped the Guinness bottle back as he gulped it down. The afternoon ahead would involve the both of them heading to the frozen yoghurt on the corner of Plate Street where Black Thor works and there Niall would present the frozen yoghurt gift card to Zayn as a present courtesy of Eleanor. While it was valid until the end of the year, Niall would also be sure to remind Zayn to use it within the next two months just in case Eleanor and Black Thor will break up and the gift card will no longer be working.

It may not be an over-the-top afternoon but anything that involved sugar, sugar, sugar, Zayn was all in with the idea hence Niall calling it a magical afternoon.

“Magical? We’re not going to Harry Potter world again, are we?”

Niall shook his head. “This is an eating place.”

“The soup place?”

“No—and stop guessing.” Niall’s fingered wavered up and down Zayn’s body. “Get dressed and let’s go.”

“Gimme a few minutes, then,” he said, stepping around the kitchen island. Niall caught his wrist and he turned around coming face to face with him.

“Are you okay?” Niall asked, paused, then asked again, “I mean, are you better than… before?”

Zayn shook his head. “It hasn’t completely sunk in, that I am not, you know”– he punctuated his sentence by gazing at his boyfriend who nodded understandingly – “but I’ll be okay.”

“It’s okay not to be okay.”

Zayn slowly leaned back against the edge of the island, digging into his back and carding both his hands through his silky hair. “It’s not okay to be gay, apparently.”

Niall shifted on his feet. “That’s just—not true. It’s not true. It’s perfectly okay.”

Zayn gazed at him beneath his long eyelashes, questioningly, as if secretly challenging him to change his statement because hello, he was ousted by his family for being a homosexual.

“There’s always going to be people, Snookums, who will try to fix you, fix us,” he said, his voice low and raw, filled with so much worry for his boyfriend. “And you can never make those people happy, ever. You’ll basically die trying.”

“You can try.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Why not? We can change people’s perspectives. The gays have been fighting for their rights since the last century – and before – and for decades they’ve been getting recognition and acceptance. We’re getting there.”

“All of that doesn’t matter when the people who matter can’t.” Niall shifted his eyes, looking beyond Zayn’s shoulder, unable to gaze at his boyfriend. “You can see it on their face that it breaks their heart just to look at you because you’re gay.”

Zayn’s eyes bulged then scowled. “Congrats, Niall, that’s my family in a nutshell.”

 _I’m sorry_ was on the tip of Niall’s tongue but that was not helpful, not at all. He set the beer bottle he had been holding onto to behind Zayn on the marble island and stood up straighter before his boyfriend.

“What if you weren’t gay?” he said and Zayn cocked his head to the side. “What if you were straight? Back to who you were? Wouldn’t your family love you then?”

Zayn frowned, his eyes working themselves in attempting to understand what Niall was saying yet Niall himself was going with the flow, not knowing where he was headed with his thoughts as this was his attempt at cheering Zayn up. He should have honestly gone with his Plan A which was taking Zayn out for frozen yoghurt where Black Thor works.

“If you went back and told them that… you weren’t… I mean…” Both his hands made vague circular motions in the air.

“What are you saying, Niall?”

“I’m saying if you… you weren’t gay before and… before we dated… and you and your family were happy but then… when we….” Niall was not making much sense, that much he knew, and he was stuttering and splattering and his hands were moving a lot and what his brain was trying to elaborate was not working and it was making Zayn irritated.  

“So you’re saying that if I go back to Bradford and tell my father I’m not gay everything will go back to what it was before?”

“You’ll have your family,” Niall reasoned. “You’ll be surrounded by people you love.”

“You love me.”

“I’m not… I will…”

Zayn buried his head in his hands, screaming at them. The noise muffled by his hands but it still made Niall deflate. He reached out and held Zayn’s shoulders which violently shoved him off.

“Don’t you see what you’re suggesting?” Zayn’s voice was nothing but a fiery fire. “You’re telling me to crawl back to Bradford, look my family in the eye and deny who I am. Tell them I am not gay, pansexual, faggot, whatever the fuck you like.”

“That’s not,” he said but immediately shut up when Zayn shot him hot glares.

“You want me to apologize for who I am.”

“I’m not asking that, Zayn. I’m asking you—”

“To go back home and tell them I’m not who I am?” he finished for him, seething. “Even if I listen to your stupid idea it won’t make a difference because like you’ve just said, it will always break the Maliks that I’m gay, their only son is gay and shameful and offensive and they don’t want any part of that.”

“You’ll have them back,” Niall barely whispered.

He could not be selfish, not this time and not ever. While Zayn denied it, problems began within the Maliks when they were more-than-friends and Zayn had often received the short end of the stick but it was dawning on Niall how serious it was all becoming. He was struck with a thought that pushed all the air out of his lungs.

To put it simply, Zayn could not have both his family and him; he had to choose either one.

Zayn sharply turned away from him, taking several steps away from Niall with hands crossed on his chest and his fingers clenched in tight fists. “If you’re breaking up with me, then say it.”

The floor beneath Niall fell. “ _What?_ ”

“All this talk about apologizing for coming out seems like a cheap way of breaking up with me.”

Niall’s lips parted. That was not what he was aiming for, not at all! Though now that Zayn’s words sank in his pale Irish skin, it did seem that way but honestly, Niall wanted what was best for him. Besides, Zayn could not simply have both his family and him and family was everything, after all. But could he lose his boyfriend? 

“I don’t want to but dating me at the expense of losing your family doesn’t seem worth it.”

“Not everything is about you, you self-centred cock!” Zayn shouted at his face. “This is between me and my family about my sexuality. I could be dating Liam Payne and the situation would not be that different. Don’t you fucking see?”

The Liam Payne comment was a jab, whether Zayn did it on purpose or not, it still hurt him.

“Just because you had a welcoming party for your coming out doesn’t mean the rest of us do. The rest of us, dear Niall,” he spat his name and Niall winced. He had never heard his name uttered with such distaste from him. “We get another sort of welcoming party: it’s pain and blood and screams and tears and hurt but, most of all, it’s anything but welcoming. And in the process, you lose the people you love.”

Zayn ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes tightly shut as he heavily breathed.  

“I’m not apologizing for who I am,” Zayn shouted at the top of his lungs, not letting Niall a word in as his eyes remained widened for several moments, not blinking but staring at him. Zayn exhaled, collecting himself by running his hand through his jet black hair, and blinking at the ceiling. “If nobody can accept me for who I am, _what_ I am, then fuck them. When I left the band last year, one of the reasons was acceptance for _me_ because it feels like my whole life—”

“This is different,” Niall argued.

“Stop asking me to apologizing for loving you.”

“You’re going to miss them all. Your father, Tricia, Walihya, Safaa—”

“I swear you sound as if you’re breaking up with me and you’re pushing me to break up with you.”

“I’m no—”

“If—”

“Listen to me,” Niall yelled, reaching the end of his patience. “Five, seven years from now, will this matter? Will _all_ of this matter?” He pointed to himself and Zayn with his finger. “Right now you may say yes, it does, but in the future, you might regret cutting yourself from your family just to date me.”

“I don’t regret leaving the band.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It is.” Zayn bowed down, arching his back as he rested his head on his hands and his elbows on his thighs. “It’s the same thing because they all hate me except for my mom. Doniya hates me for choosing you over my family, Walihya can’t look at me anymore and Safaa doesn’t like me because I made Baba sad.”

Niall remained silent during his pause. While he knew the situation, it felt as if he were hearing it for the first time, each time. Still awe-struck, he watched Zayn stand up from leaning against the countertop and it was a moment or two before he spoke.

“So if you want to break up with me, man up and do it, don’t push me to do it for you,” he said. Niall was going to object but Zayn held a hand up. “If you want to break up it’s because you don’t love me not all this other bullshit you’re spewing.”

Silence engulfed them. Niall could barely breathe and his eyes were losing focus. Break up? _Break up with Zayn?_ Not in the million years he had been dating Zayn, or since he knew he was falling for him, had he thought of ending things and here was his chance – which he did not want to take. Except, if they dated then Zayn would lose his family and if they did not date, then Zayn wou—

“Do you… love me?”

Niall’s vision came back into focus and what he saw made his heart sink to his stomach. Zayn’s eyes were watery gazing at Niall, not _to_ him, his bottom lip wavering with an aura of a kicked puppy. Or if someone awaiting bad news to be confirmed such as being broken up with.

For the second time in his life, Niall chose love.

“I’m in love with you, Snookums, and I love you every day if it’s even possible to love someone.” The moment he confessed, Zayn visibly relaxed before him, a drop of a tear rolling down his cheek in sheer relief. It took him back. “You’re the first person I’ve ever loved.”

Niall reached out and snaked his hands around on Zayn’s hips, bringing his head to tuck in Zayn’s neck. “You’re my Luck.” He turned his head upward and his lips brushed on Zayn’s earrings. “My Fate.” His arms tightened around his middle. “My Fortune and—and this is getting awkward because you’re not hugging me back.”

“You have my hands tied,” he laughed, watery but it was comforting, pure and simple. He breathed out as Zayn hugged him back not before peppering his temple with kisses. “Just for the record, I love you too, Habibi.” He hugged him tighter. “Very much.”

After a shower, chugging down the bottle of Guinness to calm his nerves as Zayn got dressed, changing Zayn’s pants after Niall commented that it was not ironed which followed with an outfit change, a tiny bickering on who was to drive, finding a place to park that was not under the sun’s glare, the boyfriends found themselves sat in a corner on comfortable pale green couches enjoying large cups of frozen yoghurt.

“Why have we never come here before?” asked Zayn, sighing happily around his plastic spoon. He took the option of chocolate yoghurt with way too many sweet options Niall spared a thought for his teeth.

“Apart from the fact that El recently started dating Black Thor, I literally don’t have many options of places to have froyo.”

“Why?”

“El ends up dating one of the people that work there and they break up and then we can’t eat from there. Forever,” he added, attempting at sounding intimidating but it did not quite work out and it sent Zayn giggling. “It’s not funny. I have gone months without froyo and it’s torturous.”

“You survived.”

“Barely!”

“You can make your own froyo. Harry told me you can do that.”

Niall shrugged nonchalantly, poking around his cup. “It’s too much work.”

“Speaking of work, I’m officially not part of RCA anymore. I am now part of Jay-Z’s label, Roc Nation,” he announced happily and Niall cheered extra loud, earning looks from those nearby. “It honestly feels good to leave, I have the same thrill I had when I left the band.”

“Does it feel like what you imagined it would be like when you left in March?”

“Sort of.” Zayn swallowed his frozen yoghurt. “I can’t say much because technically I haven’t done anything with Shawn yet but I can’t wait, honestly. I love his music, his works, what he’s done for the music industry, it’s all inspiring.”

“Who the fuck is Shawn?”

Zayn gave him a dead look. “That’s Jay-Z’s name.”

“And now you’re part of it all,” cheered Niall, half-standing from his seat and wrapping his hands around his boyfriend. It ended up being Niall hugging Zayn’s head, rather than his body, but it was all good because hearing Zayn laugh was heavenly.

Zayn went to get a refill for his frozen yoghurt because, well, he could. Sure he could, he had the money, but thanks to his boyfriend, he now had a frozen yoghurt gift card that allowed him to have a limitless amount of frozen yoghurt (including whatever toppings he so desired) that would last him for a while. This was the essential Plan A that Niall had before everything went to shit that found himself almost breaking up with Zayn. It had just been a couple of hours ago but the thought scared him still.

“This is my new favourite place,” Zayn said, having returned and was waving a gummy frog at Niall. “We should come here every day.”

“My teeth will fall off with all this sugar.”

“You’ve filled your cup with just fruits,” Zayn countered, pointedly looking at Niall’s half-empty cup. “Fruits, Habibi, and you’re the least healthy person I know.”

“I am plenty healthy.” To prove his point, he munched loudly on a diced apple.

“You barely drink the recommended two litres of water per day.”

“Water tastes so” – he started when beneath their table, Zayn hooked his feet with Niall’s –“bad.” He watched a smirk growing on Zayn’s lush lips and rolled his eyes. “Stop it, you ass. I was saying something important.”

“Were you?” Zayn cocked his head to one side, the tip of his spoon stuck between his pearly whites. Niall felt his cock twitch and he immediately looked away, this was not the time to get a boner. Absolutely not. That was not to say that his cock was the only one receiving a sudden rush of blood, his cheeks were burning even after looking anywhere but at Zayn’s heart-melting gesture.

“Yes, and it was that you were wrong.”

“I don’t think so. Water is healthy and you should drink at least two litres and not that nonsense of flavoured water.”

“You were wrong about not having a family.”

“How?” he asked, a voice on edge.

“For one, you have me,” he began. “Then you have El, Payno, Harry and his boyfriend. After, you have Ma, Greg, Denise and Theo. Don’t forget Dio, Willie, Bressie and Fred. And of course, Jawaad and Hadiyya. But apart from these, the fans have an odd way of making you feel like you’ve got a second family.” He leaned forward on the table and cupped Zayn’s left hand. “Don’t ever feel like you’re alone because you’re not.”

Zayn grinned. “I do have you as a family especially when everyone came to visit.”

“Visit? When?” asked Niall, puzzled.

“No one told you? I thought you were behind it…” Niall still looked puzzled as Zayn rambled. “Oh, um, everyone came over.”

“Who’s everyone?”

Earlier in the week, Maura had come knocking at Zayn’s door after a distressed call from Tricia explaining of what transpired during the weekend – not in much detail and leaving much to the imagination. Maura had gathered the family and did everything to keep true to Tricia’s request of looking after her sunshine.

Eleanor was the first to visit and together they worked on the final touches of Maura’s wedding gown, went on an online shopping spree, and had a blast making a full English breakfast at four o’clock in the afternoon.

Liam was up next. With no football match during the week, Liam had stopped by carrying Thai takeaway from Zayn’s favourite place and played various video games.

Louis had come by, did pretty much the same thing as the day before with Liam, but in the night, they had a little too much to drink thanks to Zayn’s filled the makeshift bar and Louis ended spending the night, filling their lungs with smoke. And the following night, too.

Denise tagged Theo with her. They had spent most of the afternoon with Zayn drawing Theo’s favourite tattoos on his skin onto his with a set of colourful Sharpies and then insisting on assisting Zayn to cook an early dinner. It was while he was helping Theo cut tomatoes (with Denise watching the both of them with hawk eyes) that Zayn was starting to suspect something was going on.

Was it not strange that suddenly he was having a stream of guests, after being ousted by his family? Do not get him wrong, he loved it, appreciated the many, many gestures, but it was a little overwhelming. Eóghan had sensed such and together, they sat in Zayn’s gigantic library and simply read.

Many others had come through but it was Maura’s visit that Zayn knew it was something she had been planning for a while. He was, unfortunately, dressed in a sleepy manner – in sweatpants and an old grey tank top – and when Niall’s mother was standing on the other end of the door.

After quickly taking a shower and wearing clean (nothing fading, of course), presentable clothes, Maura told him they were going to make one of Niall’s favourite foods: lasagna. They talked about nothing and everything all at once, from the wedding to Niall to (vaguely) about what happened in Bradford to Bobby.

“I know ye told Nini t’ call his Da ‘n’ I’m grateful,” she had told him.

“It was nothing.”

“T’was everythin’, Zen. I hoped t’at me Chicken would talk t’ his Da sometime before I die, ‘n’ t’at was wishful thinkin’, but now I think ‘tis possible.”

Zayn had looked at her in surprise. “Niall called him?”

“He will.” She had smiled knowingly and Zayn felt as if she were seeing into the future, him, not so sure. “’N’ it’ll take some time but they’re goin’ t’ be t’gether, just like ol’ times.”

“How do you sound so sure?”

“Cause Nini listens t’ ye cause he cares so much for yer well-being,” she had said with her most sincere voice. “Yer in his veins ‘n’ he’ll do whatever ‘t takes t’ bring joy into yer life ‘n’ whatever, or whomever, dims t’at joy, he’ll do everythin’ in his power t’ take it away. So ye must understand why right now ‘tis difficult for him.”

Zayn tore his eyes from her to the oven where the lasagna was baking. “I do love your son, Maura, I absolutely do, but I just need…”

“I know ye need yer space but don’t leave ‘im out for t’ long or he’s goin’ t’ go crazy wonderin’ what _he_ did wrong,” she had told him as gently as she could.

Zayn felt a tad better after the talk with Niall’s Ma that he briefly texted Niall stating he was alright and if they could meet this weekend. The lasagna was ready and Maura, suspiciously, asked if they could invite a few friends overseeing as she cooked a lot more lasagna than for two people, to which he agreed and in no less than two minutes (even more suspicious), his and Niall’s friends and family walked through his door and what was a small lunch turned to be a get-together full of music, drinks and lots and lots of lasagna for everyone.

“Thank you, Maura,” Zayn immensely thanked her when she had said she would be heading home. Eleanor, Liam, Jawaad and Hadiyya and a few of Niall’s cousins remained to continue the luncheon. “Not just for the party but for… all of it.”

Maura grinned in the same grin that Niall had. “Me pleasure, Zen. ‘N’ talk t’ Nini, yeah?”

“I will,” he had promised. He was enveloped in her embrace, bending forward as she was considerably shorter, and smiling softly with her warmth and smell of lasagna on her clothes.

“Don’t be a stranger, yeah?” she had said just before leaving. “Oh, now be careful t’ keep that lasagna secret recipe close t’ yer heart,” – she winked at him – “tis a family secret.”

 

Back to the magical afternoon with frozen yoghurt, Niall looked horrified. “All of you ate lasagna without me?! And, you dickhead, only texted saying, ‘Let’s meet this weekend’ when you were eating lasagna!”

Zayn laughed. “Maura said you were in the studio with Ed.”

“Still,” whined Niall, poking around in his frozen yoghurt cup, “it’s _lasagna_.”

“I didn’t think you liked lasagna _that_ much,” he said and it was the truth until Maura taught him how to cook it the way Niall liked it (though if she was being truthful, he liked it anyhow it was cooked so long as he got to eat it).

“I do! And I think Ma was behind it all with a little help from Tricia.”

“You think so?”

“Yep.” Niall stabbed his spoon into his not-frozen yoghurt and clapped his hands once. “This seems to be a recurring thing on our outings where we talk about non-romantic topics, so let’s change that.”

Zayn agreed around a mouthful of several gummy frogs.

“Have you noticed that one nostril is bigger than the other?” asked Niall in child-like wonder.

Zayn snorted. “How are we even dating?”

“I’m seriously asking.”

“I know you are, Habibi, but talking about noses–”

“–Nostrils.”

Zayn pointedly looked at him. “– _is_ not under the romantic category.”

“So?”

“No, you weirdo, I have not noticed people’s noses bigger than the other.”

“ _Nostrils_. And why not? Don’t you ever sit down, listening to _Blue Neighbourhood_ , and wonder, ‘Is that girl’s left nostril bigger than her right nostril?’ and you wonder wonder _wonder_ the whole bus ride.”

“Why were you staring at a girl’s nose?”

“ _Nostril_. And it was huge.”

Zayn paused, spoon inside his mouth, then burst into laughter upon seeing Niall’s serious face. “Fuck, how did we end up almost breaking up to talking about noses?”

Niall was struck with another epiphany upon seeing Zayn’s eyes closed, mouth laughing happily with his tongue stuck to the back of his pearly whites. Not to forget his nose wrinkled in the cuteness way possible with his red nose ring gleaming just as bright as Zayn’s happiness. Right here and now, Niall was going to be the best, best, absolute best boyfriend he could ever be. All the boyfriend goals? He would be. And much more.

“Nostrils,” he belatedly corrected.

They ended their magical afternoon date by ordering another round of frozen yoghurt (for Zayn) to go. The whole car ride, Niall’s mind was out the window, Zayn playing back-to-back Drake songs (“It’s always Drake o’clock!” Zayn had said at a red light when Niall complained that he was overplaying Drake), thinking about what his Ma did for his boyfriend, about Bradford and oh crap, the almost-breakup incident this afternoon. It had been a long and bad week, no doubt.

“There’s a Buddha saying,” began Niall, “that states when you meet your soulmate, remember the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. This afternoon I didn’t mean it to come out as me wanting to break up with you… you’re kind of magnetic.”

They were at home, Zayn taking off his leather jacket as Niall toed off his Vans.

“The truth is, I don’t know what the fuck to do because all of this is new to me,” he made circular gestures with his hands, “and honestly, I’ve been crying to sleep because it’s sickening that your family wants nothing to do with you and… and you’re here, standing, even though it’s hard but you are and you’re not crying… and then you left and I talked to your sister who…”

Niall had begun crying at the start and as of now he was hiccupping and sniffing loudly, the words choked and muffled. Zayn closed the distance, holding Niall in his warm arms, rubbing his back smoothly but Niall was not done so he shook his head, stepping back. He sniffed a couple of times, wiped his pink wet cheeks with the back of his hand as he inhaled shaky breaths.

“Jawaad called me.”

The tears flooded right back in Niall’s eyes and Zayn’s reached to embrace his boyfriend who only dodged his hands and shook his head.

“I have a tendency of loving too little and too much and I don’t know how the fuck that is possible. Can you believe?” he laughed, bitter and edgy that caused a deep frown on Zayn’s face. “What I was saying with the whole Buddha thing is that you know I’m a sucker for cliché’s and shit so when you said if I was breaking up with you I remembered the quote. How could we break up something that took aeons to make?”

Zayn fondly rolled his eyes, because, _really?_

“I honestly never thought we’d break up—like it’s never popped into my mind and this afternoon it did and it was scary because you’re everything, Zayn. To me. Everything,” he repeated, catching Zayn’s eyes.

“I was scared, too,” whispered Zayn, the feeling between them heavy and clouded. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore, thought little of me now that my family left me.”

Niall sniffed. “You’re fiercely brave, Zayn, how could I think little of you?”

Zayn shrugged one shoulder, looking down at Niall’s socked feet. “To be fair, I also don’t know what happens now—I mean, it hasn’t sunk in yet about my family, and I don’t know when it will, but until then, I’ll enjoy the calm before the storm.”

“I don’t know how you’re not crying.”

Zayn laughed, the heaviness between them slowly diminishing. “I think we agreed a long time ago that you cry for the _both_ of us.”

Niall laughed, following Zayn inside his house and flopping beside him on the couch. They were laying side by side, their long legs threading together; Niall’s hand was thrown over his waist and both of Zayn’s hands flat on Niall’s chest.

“Do you know how the ending goes?”

“Something cheesy I’m guessing?” Zayn teased.

Niall grinned, bopping their foreheads. “It ends with advising those to always appreciate and be kind to each other.” Niall pulled back as he flattened his hand underneath Zayn’s shirt on the small of his back.

Zayn searched his eyes, Niall’s heart racing faster when his glance darted down to his lips, then to his soft eyes. Niall looked back, his breath quickening and fingers idly drawing circles on his back. Zayn inched forward, bumping their noses before brushing their lips in a feather-light touch. It all but drove Niall crazy, wanting to slide his tongue down Zayn’s throat but this was for Zayn, be still, he told his beating heart. And when Zayn kissed him, his heart melted inside of him, turning to into liquid love with each stroke of his lips, of his tongue, of the fingers playing in his cotton hair, he was _so_ in love tonight.

His hand underneath Zayn’s shirt slithered down to Zayn’s waistband, his fingers brushing on the skin there. Zayn pulled himself close, deepening the kiss and if there was ever a _Go_ signal, that was it. His hand worked its way to the front, his fingers making a show of scratching down Zayn’s happy trail, the feel of the hairs melting his brain and imagining his tongue lapping over it. Better yet…

He got up, Zayn chasing his lips desperately and straddled him properly.  

Zayn blinked his eyes open. “Wha—”

Niall unzipped his jeans. “I love you, Niaz Kilam.”

Zayn smiled dopily. “I love you, Emperor Norah.” Niall’s eyes burned with passion and lust, the words going straight to his hardening cock. Zayn smirked at him and slapped his ass. “Are you just going to leave your hand on my belly button or…?”

Niall snapped into focus – Zayn’s lips were wet and red and so, so delicious – and before gliding his left hand underneath Zayn’s blue boxers, he licked a fat strip of saliva onto his palm. Zayn gasped beneath him, his hands coming up and clawing at Niall’s shoulders. His eyes never left Zayn as he pumped his throbbing cock, as he pulled back the foreskin, as his hand touched on Zayn’s skull-shaped penis piercing (his own cock was straining against his jeans!), nor when Zayn’s red lips parted in a silent moan because Niall was in fucking love.

He bent down and locked their lips. Yes, he was so in love that his stomach growled… in agreement, he liked to think, which effectively stopped their snogging with Zayn laughing into their kiss.

“Hungry?” joked Zayn.

“Maybe.”

“C’mon, I’ll make something light for us—”

Zayn never finished his sentence as Niall pushed him back onto the couch, his hand still on his thick cock. “Niall, I—”

“Listen here, Malik. I don’t know about those bitches before.” Niall was proper straddling Zayn, his hand lazily brushing on Zayn wet head, feather light touches that left him flustered, enough but, at the same time, not enough. “But they did you wrong.”

“How?” grunted Zayn. The back of his head was on the couch, his hands running up and down Niall’s thighs.

“I take care of you, I’ll always take care of you,” he whispered into his ear and held the base of his cock firmly. “I made a promise to Doniya love the fuck out of you and I plan on fulfilling it.” With his right hand, he cupped Zayn’s balls, playing them between his fingers that had Zayn, spreading his legs more, ruggedly breathing underneath him.

“Don’t,” he breathed in Niall’s ear, “stop.”

Niall captured their lips in a wet, messy kiss. It made him feel as if he was drowning in Zayn, the way Zayn nipped at his lips and licked his tongue against them, his hand working faster on Zayn’s cock. The kissing became harder to do, to follow, leaving it only to open mouth kisses and exchanges of hot breath between their lips as Niall was pulling Zayn over the edge.

Zayn’s hands dipped into the skin on Niall’s back, his body shaking with pleasure, with want for this man — “Niall, I’m…” — with release as his balls tightening with Niall’s tongue licked a hot strip from his shoulder to beneath his ear — “… close…” — the tip of his tongue swiping on the shell of his ear. “ _Habibi!”_

Zayn had a moment to breathe when Niall’s hand left his throbbing and wet cock and was replaced by his boyfriend’s warm mouth. Zayn bucked into his mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of Niall’s throat and he gasped with relief. He shouted Niall’s name in a row as he came into his mouth, Niall bopping his head on his cock as he drank all of him.

“You know,” said Niall as he licked the corners of his mouth of the remains of Zayn, “I wouldn’t mind if you gripped my hair when you come.”

Zayn simply chuckled, catching his breath. Niall dressed him back up, zipping him and straddle his legs, taking care not to be close to his cock.

“I’m serious.”

“I did that and literally pulled bits of your hair.”

“That was hot,” he said, voice gruff. His hands were on the column of Zayn’s neck, thumbing behind the shell of his ear. “If you pull my hair _out_ it means I was doing something right.”

Zayn ran his teeth on his bottom lip, Niall following the movement closely. “It was but I felt bad, honestly. Besides, I hurt you.”

“If you did I would’ve told you, Snookums.”

His hands were on each of Niall’s thighs, slow riding up. “I show you in other ways how much I love you.”

“I do love the scratches all over my body,” said Niall, his cheeks flaming red at the memories and abruptly held Zayn’s wrist and removed them from his thigh. “You keep doing that and I’m going to get hard.”

“I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

“I already came, thank you very much,” said Niall and Zayn blinked, confused. “You should honestly see yourself when I’m sucking you off—you’re utterly beyond.”

For the second time, Niall’s stomach growled. He internally died of embarrassment though he had no time to wallow as his stomach growled twice.

“Right. Food,” said Zayn, getting off the couch and pulling Niall off with him. “Your stomach growled and you distracted me.”

“Didn’t hear you complain.”

Zayn responded with a slap to his ass and Niall yelped. “What do you want?”

“A change of underwear, thank you,” he replied as he headed to the direction of Zayn’s bedroom before placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

   

“500 years, huh?” Zayn said as he made his way into the kitchen. Niall hummed. “That should be about… 1516. The sixteenth century! That’s bloody long.”

“Fate,” murmured Niall. He watched Zayn remove bell peppers from the fridge and something wrapped in yellow and red wrapping.

Zayn snorted. “Sappy as fuck, you.”

“Wasn’t that the same time as Shakespeare?”

“Yeah actually.”

Niall’s eyes twinkled then. “Do you think _he_ wrote our Fate?”

“In what, _Macbeth_? _The Tempest_? _Twelfth Night_? _Othello_?”

Never having heard of _those_ works of Shakespeare, Niall suggested, “Or _Romeo and Ju_ —”

“Fuck no!” Zayn protested. “We are not dying because of some stupid misunderstanding. You might as well pick _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ which had a better love story.”

“But Romeo and Juliet were relationship goals.”

Zayn levelled him with a look but Niall was not backing down. No, siree! He was a romantic at heart and not even Zayn’s judging look was going to—

“What are you making?” he ended up asking, only because Zayn emerged with chicken breasts from behind him and placed them on the chopping board.

“Fajitas.”

Niall gleed. “Yes! I haven’t them in a long time. Can I help?”

Zayn looked at him in surprise. “Sure, Habibi. You can, uh, cut the bell peppers in thin strips.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

Niall got down from the countertop, walking over to where Zayn’s knives (which were constantly sharp as compared to his which were dull and way too old now) were stored, picking the largest one and got to chopping the two yellow and red peppers.

“Is there a reason you’re interested in cooking?”

“Me?” Niall said, voice unusually high, hand above his heart. “I love cooking. It’s my passion. Totally a chef, me. Can’t you tell?”

“You burnt rice… without the rice.”

Niall waved the knife in the air as dismissal. “Pish posh, suck it off, you’re jealous of my amazing cooking… ness.”

“Cooking… _ness_.” Zayn pulled a wok from the cabinet by his feet and placing it on the electric cooker. “You horrible at cooking, Habibi.”

“Oi! I make a mean omelette.”

“After I taught you.”

Niall battered his eyelashes. “I was faking it so that you could teach me.”

“You cannot fake almost burning your house down.”

“Maybe it’s because I want to be able to cook for you.”

Zayn’s hand stilled on the bottle of olive oil. “You do.”

He scoffed bitterly, “An omelette? _Please!_ Remember when I hosted the welcoming house party and the entire day I treated you out?”

Zayn nodded, now close to Niall, their cooking temporarily on hold. “I loved every minute.”

“Your sisters and Eleanor stated that I couldn’t cook, and yeah I know it, but they made a good point when they said that what if something happened to you? Like, you lost both your hands and you couldn’t use them? What then?”

“I’m not losing my arms.”

“You lost your left hand.”

“I could still cook. Niall, what’s this about?”

Niall eyes shifted to down at the wok behind Zayn. “I never thought about it but recently, I have. When you fell sick and it hit me that I couldn’t make you feel better. I could barely get the tea correctly, the soup was basically porridge, the actual porridge was as hard as stone… it’s never bothered me that I can’t cook because—I was on my own but now I have you and I—I want to take care of you.”

Zayn cupped Niall’s pink cheeks. “You did take of me when I got the flu. You were the absolute best.”

“All I did was order out the entire time.” Niall let out a long-suffering sigh. “I can’t make coffee the way you like it.”

“I’ll teach you everything, just like the way I taught you to make an omelette. Just for the record, you took amazing care of me.” Zayn briefly kissed his lips, lingering for a moment or two. “I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me as much as you did when I was sick. You made me laugh, you cuddled with me, you ran me multiple baths, you weren’t grossed out with all the mucus and the coughing and my greasy hair and dirty laundry, you woke up in the middle of the nights with me nagging that I was hot, then I was cold, then hot again and you didn’t even blink, you even Youtube-ed how to give someone a back rub with the oils and all that, and it was sick, Habibi. Every minute.”

“But I don’t—”

“With all that, who the fuck cares if you can’t make my favourite coffee. I’d have what you offered any day than for someone who makes my coffee and pumpkin soup the way I like it.”

“Really?” he asked, vulnerable.

“Really,” Zayn confirmed and Niall gave him a small smile. “But if it bothers you so much, I can teach you a few things. Like today, I can teach you how to make a fajita.”

“Yes, please,” grinned Niall.

Under close supervision from his boyfriend (“I don’t want you burning down my kitchen!” “Cut it out, that was once.” “Twice!”), Niall cooked the chicken, added the rest of the ingredients into the wok and a little over an hour later, the fajita was ready.

Well, the whole experience normally took Zayn less than 35 minutes but with supervising Niall, not turning the chicken to cook until the inside and adding far too much pepper, it took longer. Not forgetting Niall heating the tortilla to a hard crisp in the microwave (“Only 30 seconds, Habibi!” “You said 30 minutes!”) but luckily, Zayn had another fajita kit and this time, Niall made sure to tap 30 seconds into the microwave.

“Remind me why we’re watching _Sherlock_? What happened to _Strictly_?” inquired Zayn. They were sat in front of the TV, tucking into the delicious fajitas, cocktails and lots of chocolate and candy on the coffee table (thanks to the guests he had been welcoming into his house for the past week, all of them knowing his fond sweet tooth).

“First, _Strictly_ is boring as fuck,” said Niall, chewing happily as he navigated through Netflix looking for _Sherlock_. “And second, I sorta lied to Gatiss and Moffat that I love _Sherlock_ and watch it all the time _and_ ,” he stressed when Zayn snorted loudly beside him, “I need to see what the show is about. Apparently, it’s good.”

“It’s investigative.”

“Solving crimes and all that?” he asked and Zayn nodded back at him. “Sounds a little like _The Mentalist_. But not British.” Niall leaned into his boyfriend. “Plus, you’re being patriotic and all by watching British shows.”

“It’s better than watching reality TV.”

“That’s because your version of good telly is documentaries about old people.”

“Knowledge is power.”

Niall snorted under his breath and huffed a pleased breath when he finally found _Sherlock_. He eagerly clicked on it and, popping open a Guinness, snuggling close to his warm boyfriend.

“You’re a diamond, Habibi,” Zayn whispered to him, his fingers wedging between his. “There’s not a thing I would change about you because you’re golden just the way you are.”

Niall squeezed his hand so, so tight he thought he would break his bones.

“I’m so grateful. For you. In my life.” Zayn let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for being a fuck up and I don’t—ever—don’t deserve you.”

“That’s—” He was cut off by Zayn’s other hand cupping his mouth.

“Please. Let me.” Zayn’s tight hold on his hand shifted, moving their hands to lay on his own thigh. “We’re here watching _Sherlock_ and eating fajitas on my couch and I—It scares me how joyous I fucking am and being here with you, there is nowhere else I’d rather be. Wallahi, Habibi. Nowhere and—and I fall in love with you every single day.”

Niall turned and snuggled his head in Zayn’s neck, his words making him feel some type of way like he was invincible now that he was showered with Zayn’s love. He pressed his lips to Zayn’s neck, then whispered, “Mujy tum say mohabbat hai!”

Zayn brought their threaded fingers and kissed Niall’s knuckles, chuckles escaping his throat. Niall had managed, despite his horrible understanding of Urdu, without messing up in between, to say, ‘I love you’ without a glitch.

“Since when do you speak Urdu?”

Niall dragged his teeth on his bottom lip, not wanting to confess that Hadiyya had secretly been teaching him Urdu. It was a challenge, honestly, but he knew the basics. He would have by-passed her and headed for Duolingo but the App did not have Urdu so he asked Hadiyya. No way in hell was he going to ask Jawaad because the teasing would never end!

“My secrets.” Niall kisses his temple, lingering for a moment. “Now hush, my on-screen boyfriend is on.”

Zayn snorted on his shoulder. “What happened to Malfoy?”

“Hush!” he said but with sheer happiness in his voice and his bright red cheeks downplayed the word from its emphasis. Nevertheless, Zayn hushed and together they ate their fajitas in front of the telly.

It was just another Thursday, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extremely sorry for the late update - more than a month is not my style for this fanfic ]= but i've really tried updating faster but life and job were in the way ♦
> 
> BUUUT whatcha think? it feels as if i never give zayn a break but... he's representing a side in 'coming out' & i've got to stick with that plot but promise to be nicer in the next coming chapters.
> 
> KUDOS & COMMENTS are highly welcome ☻ all bad and good, don't worry bout it.  
> take care sons !! ♦


	35. The Promise of Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziall go on a getaway to the City of Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a WARNING for this chapter: sexual harassment so please be a w a r e & safe.
> 
> enJOY ♦

  

 

> _**What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer** _  
>  _**Jesus knows our every** **weakness** **, so take to the Lord in prayer** _  
>  _**We should never be discouraged, take it to the Lord in prayer** _  
>  _**What a friend we have in Jesus** _

 

“Paris!” Zayn looked up from the train ticket between his fingers. “We’re going to Paris!?”

Niall spread his arms far wide and wriggled his fingers. “Surprise!” Niall pulled his back pack over his shoulders. “Now you can stop pestering me about where we’re going. And no,” he added when Zayn was about to speak, “you will not ask me where in Paris we’re going. You’re going to see for yourself.”

Zayn softly chuckled, shaking his head at Niall, at the plane ticket in his hand, at the world itself. “Why Paris?”

“It’s the city of love,” Niall said, as if it was the most obvious choice of destination. “Where else would you rather be?”

“With you.”

Spots of red dust his cheeks. “Look who’s a cheeseball.”

Zayn leaned forward, his hands hugging Niall’s reddened cheeks and snogged his boyfriend. “You still are,” he murmured on his lips. “You always will be.”

“I can’t deny my gift.”

Zayn snorted. “Our station is that way.” He pointed behind Niall, then with his left hand, took Niall’s hand in his. “Let’s go.”

With all that had been going on, not just the previous week, but the previous weeks, Niall thought they needed an escape. Or rather, Zayn was itching to fly to Belize, like he usually did, but because of the promise he made to Niall, he did not. Therefore, he sought solace with his drawing pad where he spent hours drawing and drawing and sketching and drawing some more for a Versace collection, with cigarettes and whiskey to keep him company during the day and in the night, Malfoy and his beloved hedgehog (he still had not found a name for her).

That was not the only new happening. Niall was back to work with promoting his new single featuring Ed Sheeran a.k.a this century’s Casanova, somehow managing to make the toughest of hearts melt like cheese. And not cliché like Niall would have if he had written the song himself. His single would be out when they would be in Paris, but that was no issue, he entrusted Elena with his password for his Youtube account where she would upload the video, and the promotional interview with Nick Grimshaw would be done the Friday they got back from Paris – though Ed volunteered to promote as much as he could.

What a lad.

Before he knew it, Zayn was off to America, finalizing the last details of singing onto his new label, Roc Nation, which was essentially signing along the dotted line and officially Zayn was not part of RCA but of Roc Nation which was wicked. Well, it depended on who one asked. To Zayn yes, to Niall, yes, to Zayn’s family, they could not care less, to ZQUAD, they were excited because this meant new music, new videos, a better Management team (if they were being honest, Zayn’s RCA Management was utter shit). And to the general public? Journalists and papers and everyone was fighting for the first to publish _the news_. For some reason that Niall could not shake it off, something felt off. Something about Zayn quitting RCA and dark, hidden-in-the-closet secrets were about to be brought into light… but Niall dismissed this notion because honestly, this was not some movie he was living!

“Why trains?” he asked, pulling Niall out of his thoughts.

“Because trains are so underrated.”

“Point,” he agreed, “but flight is three times faster to Paris than a train.”

“Where’s your adventure spirit, Niaz Kilam?” said Niall, swinging their linked arms. “We’re going to be under water! Is there really another reason?”

Zayn gazed at his boyfriend, the corners of his lips tugging up. “I suppose not. It’ll sort of be like the Hogwarts Express.”

Niall stopped in his tracks, gasping slowly as his eyes widened. “ _OMG!_ Yes! You’re a genius. Yes, it is like we’re on the Hogwarts Express.”

“I don’t know why I even mentioned it,” Zayn said, in faux-annoyance. “Next time I’m planning our trip and there will be no trains.”

“Maybe ships?”

Zayn was about to retort that no, absolutely not because that was worse than a train but. He had never properly been on a ship. Or cruise, traveling to far places to… to wherever cruises and yachts sailed to.

“Actually, that sounds good. Like a cruise?”

Niall squeezed his hand in earnest as his eyes twinkled. “Then we’ll be like Rose and Jack? Like on the _Titanic_?!”

“I’m regretting this already.”

At noon sharp, the train left the London station at King’s Cross and they were well on their way to Paris, a three-and-a-half hour’s trip. Niall’s eyes looked up from _Cursed Child_ to the table between them. It was littered with chocolate wrappers, candy wrappers, pencils for drawings, Niall’s signed _Prisoner of Azkaban_ copy by Tom Felton himself.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked in the second hour of their train journey.

Zayn looked up from his drawing pad, his gaze all on Niall, he felt his stomach flip. Even after dating for what felt like months, somehow Zayn gazing at him made him feel oozy and melt-y and a blushing mess.

“Of course. Anything.”

“If you weren’t a Muslim, would your life be different?”

Zayn parted his lips, his brows crunching together on his forehead. “I’ve actually never thought about it. Nevertheless, I do believe so.” Zayn was still gazing at him, his drawing long forgotten. “Why?”

Niall idly traced his index finger down page 96 of _Cursed Child_. “I don’t know. I just. If I believe in God or Allah or... Buddha, we’d be in a better place than we are.”

“But we _are_ in a better place, don’t you see?”

“How? I don’t know if you haven’t noticed but you’re family has disowned you and you keep family close by. You just got your best friend and you lost him just as fast… you’re losing those you—”

“Stop,” Zayn said, placing his hand on top of Niall’s. “This trip is meant to be a getaway from… life. I am working my way around what happened in Bradford, Louis is still my best friend, the four of you are, and you’re my boyfriend.”

Niall blushed at the word. Shamelessly did and his heart was hammering underneath his Manchester City F.C. shirt.

“Do you pray?”

“I do.”

“Do you pray for all this to… be better?”

“Habibi, this could be so much worse. With all that’s been going on, I could’ve been dead but I’m not.” Zayn paused, drawing patterns on the back of Niall’s hand. His middle finger trailed down a vein to his wrist not looking up to see Niall basically combusting with the feel of Zayn’s touch hot on his skin. “Remember what you told me yesterday? About us?”

“We’re in this together?”

“I know we were watching _High School Musical_ – which I was not drunk enough for – and you were quoting that dumb song but,” it was then he held Niall’s gaze, “we’re in this together. Whatever we do, whatever comes our way, our hurdles, battles, good times, bad times, no times, through hell, we walk together because we’re in this together. No more Han Solo. You’ve got my back and I’ve got yours.”

Niall chuckled under his breath. “I promise next time we watch _High School Musical_ we will be sober.”

“I will not be present,” huffed Zayn, going back to his drawing pad.

“Together?” asked Niall looking across at him above his book.

Zayn lifted his eyes off his drawing pad and held Niall’s soft gaze. The corners of his lips pulled at the love that was flowing from Niall’s baby blues and when he said, “Together,” he felt it deep in his bones.

Niall had previously made many promises – albeit silently to himself – to his boyfriend and he was not going to stop now. He made more promises, way, way more, especially those he would do to make his boyfriend happy. Anything at all. Because with all that Zayn had been through, some things he could never come back from, Niall was all he had left. Niall was the only one.

Turning to page 97, he was already winning because they were heading to Paris but the challenge was _what_ to do in Paris that would make Zayn feel better, forget for a while (without the help of alcohol and weed). He was not stupid, he knew what happened in Bradford would not be erased with a several days trip to the City of Love and Zayn clearly stated that _no, I’m not okay, I’m never going to be okay_ when he had asked if he was okay.

 _It is what it is_ , he had said into Niall’s shoulder (Niall had also ignored the thought that those were the same words tattooed on Louis’ chest).

He had an itinerary in mind of their getaway in Paris, starting with the obvious Eiffel Tower, Le Louvre, Moulin Rouge, followed by less obvious places Petit Palais, Notre-Dame Cathedral, and The Saint-Michel fountain but he did not want to plan too much as this was Paris, the City of Love where Love spontaneously happened as romcoms and fairytales often told him.

Paris could not just do its magic, Niall had to play his part.

He had bought every magazine out there, from Cosmo to Marie Claire, including re-watching his romcoms all day (while ignoring Elena’s relentless calls about his next single) and he read a lot of what he could do to make Zayn happy… which was mainly sexual-orientated. Actually, 98 percent of the advice was sexual.

It was not that he was unfamiliar, no, not at all. Niall had been down this road before, using sex to suppress his feelings, to make them go away or hold them off until he could not anymore and had to deal with his issues (and reality). One thing he truly learned was that using sex to forget never worked… but it helped (nowadays Niall opted for Guinness).

But if those glossy magazines were to be believed he would try the sex option first and Niall hoped and prayed and wished it would work.

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

 

“Why don’t you have a lighter?” asked Niall, one morning when they decided to head out for breakfast at a Parisian café, Les Deux Magots.

Zayn took in a long drag as he blinked slowly at Niall. Niall, wanting to explore the City of Love with gusto, woke Zayn up at the crack of dawn (it was 9 o’clock and he had been awake for an hour already, showered and was having a pre-breakfast meal) with a wonderful blowjob and Zayn had been awake for a solid half hour before sleep catching up to him. He mumbled and grunted and pouted at Niall for waking him early when they were meant to be on vacation to which Niall shouted from the balcony, _you can sleep when you’re dead, you dick!_

“I was convincing myself I could stop smoking,” he answered, his voice gruff and thick and it was dusting Niall’s cheeks pink.

“How?”

“Well, a lighter is easy to use and carry. But with a matchbox, you can easily forget it, it’s actually heavy – not physically – and I would forget each time which meant I couldn’t smoke. It worked for a while but.” He punctuated his sentence to breathe out smoke. “I became excellent at remembering to carry it.”

“You wanted to quit?”

“Doesn’t every smoker?”

Niall narrowed his eyes. “ _You_ wanted to quit?”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

Their waiter came then, laying their breakfast plates on the table. As always, Zayn’s plate was stuffed with sugar, syrup, chocolate, and more sugar including his coffee with four heaps of sugar which Niall was sure was illegal in hundreds of countries (oddly, Zayn always said he loved the bitter taste of coffee) while Niall ordered well, what one ordered when in Paris: chocolate croissants (Niall not minding the amount of chocolate on them) with milkshake and juice.

“Remember when I first went to your place with the siesta cuisine—”

Zayn added yet another teaspoon of sugar to his coffee cup. “You were a damn liar.”

“I wanted to see your place,” he said with a cheeky smile. “ _Anyway_ , I said I was glad that you smoke? And you looked at me funny?”

“Nobody says to someone, ‘I’m glad you smoke.’ because it’s not cool.”

“Apart from the health issues,” said Niall, trying to make a point that Zayn seemed to be making him go on a tangent, “it was… reassuring of sorts. I was happy that some things did not change drastically like how everything changed drastically. Nevertheless, when was the first time you smoked?”

“Cigarettes?” he asked a small smirk on his lips.

“Yes!” Niall rolled his eyes. He took a bite of his chocolate croissant and he was not disappointed. It was heaven on his tongue. “What else can you smoke?” he asked then quickly answered his own question, “Nevermind. I didn’t ask anything. Forgot that you smoke shisha as well.”

Zayn squashed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray and went about cutting his waffles into fours. “My cousins and I went to the local kiosk with borrowed money to buy alcohol but ended up buying alcohol, condoms and cigarettes. We went to my cool Auntie’s house – who wasn’t home – and that was it. P.S., tequila tastes, and will always taste, like pee.”

“Hear, hear.” He raised his glass of orange juice. “That’s when you smoked?”

“Jawaad and I were the only ones who liked cigs, the others coughed their lungs out,” Zayn said, laughing at the memory. He picked the chocolate syrup and squeezed (more) onto his sugary waffles, not forgetting to add cinnamon on top. “And I’ve never stopped. Though the first time I was caught, my mom nearly fainted.”

Niall laughed. “Was she hysterical about her sunshine smoking? Growing up as a rebel?”

“Exactly! I already had far too many animals in the house, just the week before I had sneaked in a baby snake into the house and it had been sleeping in my cupboard except it wasn’t there when I came back from school.”

Niall’s mouth formed an ‘O’.

“I had to tell my mom who basically shrieked and it ended up being my father and me looking for the snake.”

“Where was it?”

“In my sister’s room. Safaa,” he added.

“What were the condoms for?” he asked, swallowing his pastry.

“Sex.”

Niall gave him a flat look. “No shit.” Zayn smiled as he munched on his sweet waffle. Niall watched his mouth dancing as he chewed, something he never thought was _worth_ looking at (and do not get him wrong, Zayn was all sorts worth looking at) but now, pocketing how he chewed, he wanted to watch him eat all day long.

“My cousins had brought some of their girlfriends to my Auntie’s place, in the pretence of hanging out and shit and they brought their friends and it was a mini-party of sorts.”

“Orgy party you mean?” asked Niall, wriggling his eyebrows.  

“Shut up! We ended up just chatting with the girls and that was it though my two cousins got laid that night.”

“So the rest of you weirdos sat at around as they got some?” Niall laughed before he even finished his sentence. “You have cheekbones that can cut through glass, Snookums, and eyelashes for days with a melting voice that can charm a hedgehog and you didn’t use it?” Niall placed his hand on his forehead, leaning far back as he exclaimed, “Waste of talent!”

“Idiot,” Zayn giggled, his cheeks a tinge of pink, “and I was quiet, remember? Talking was hard now imagine talking to a _girl_? I was basically going to the tenth level of Hell.”

“What was your first time like?” asked Niall, then took a bite of his fourth chocolate croissant.

Zayn set his cup down. “Short. On my part.”

“Came too fast?”

“Didn’t last a minute. But I texted her asking for a second time, just to redeem myself and I was better.” Zayn smiled mischievously. “Thank you, porn.”

“Who was she?”

“Her name was Aaliyah and she was Doniya’s friend. She would often come around and chill and stuff and one time she asked what book I was reading – it was _Pride and Prejudice_ – and she said she loved the book and we got to talking and that was it really.”

“You bonded over a book?” asked Niall, dubiously. “The only thing that would make this story complete is that you lost your virginity in a library.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Really, Habibi? Though I have had sex in a library. Good times.”

“Why?”

“Because libraries are fun?” he answered with a question.

Niall drank his juice. “Anyway, so you and Aaliyah? Was she older?”

“A year older and experienced. Most guys are intimidated by a girl being more experienced in bed and things,” he said, taking a quick bite of his waffle. “But I found it cool, actually. She was really good and I got hard so quick and fuck, I just wanted to come so badly. The end.”

“Did Doniya ever find out?”

Zayn shook his head. He licked off chocolate syrup of his thumb, his tongue pressing to his thumb before his mouth closed around it, Niall watching with an apt attention that he did not hear Zayn asking him the same question until his ankle was being nudged under the table.

“Huh? Oh me,” he said, blinking rapidly to remember his first time which was with his first girlfriend. “It was Holly.”

“Please tell me you didn’t come fast. One of us has to be a champ,” said Zayn with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I didn’t,” he said, beaming like a four-year-old. “Everybody was having sex and all that and she kept saying why we weren’t having sex. I was waiting for marriage,” he offered as an explanation to Zayn who then nodded. “But she had other plans and I wanted her so I—we had sex. It was in her room, with Barbie bed sheets and we—”

“Did you have sex when you were _ten_?” laughed Zayn.

Niall threw a berry at Zayn’s forehead. “Shut up! The sheets smelled like her perfume so it was okay. Though a little cringe-y.”

“I would expect.”

“So we… had sex on those sheets and it was… wet.”

“Isn’t that good thing?” wondered Zayn, smirking deviously.

“Not _that_ type of wet,” huffed Niall, lightly tapping Zayn’s hand. “She was crying. She wasn’t hurt or anything just the whole experience was making her cry and it was doing nothing to my dick so I was going soft and oh gosh, I started imagining Marilyn Monroe and I having sex in my mind just to remain hard.” Zayn had been laughing as Niall explained. He looked genuinely distraught but with a hint of amusement at the whole ordeal but still hilarious. “Shut it, Snookums. I was being traumatized.”

“It’s funny, you have to admit it.”

“Long story short, she did come and said I was wonderful.”

Zayn swallowed his waffle. “I’m sure she would take back her words if she learned you thought of Marilyn Monroe while having sex.”

“Secrets I am taking to my grave,” Niall vowed, both their laughers mixing in the morning light of Paris.

One of the places to visit was Le Louvre and it was all for Zayn, well mostly. Niall simply wanted to be _outside_. He was not much of an Art… or painting… or History person (barely managing to pass in said subjects in high school) as he never saw what others (namely Zayn) saw. For instance, standing before a famous painting all Niall saw were two women with the chests bare, one pinching another one’s nipple. He immediately laughed – louder than usual, earning a few glances their way – and took several snapshots of it. Zayn, on the other hand, smacked the back of his head for laughing too loudly even if he was restraining from laughing loudly, too, and went ahead to explain what the women were doing.

“Pinching her tits!” he exclaimed, amidst giggles.

Zayn let out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s more than that, Habibi!”

He found the sculptures more interesting than the paintings or better, the rich furniture from famous and influential figures in the history of Paris such as Napoleon (if he was being honest, this was the only name that stuck when he read the placard) and began wondering how rich Napoleon really was and if he was alive today, who would he be?

Niall thought Bill Gates as his first choice, or Donald Trump (who had an odd love of gold) but scratched the idea because, really, Napoleon was filthy rich.

Niall collapsed on a bench, dead on his legs, on the same floor as the infamous painting of Mona Lisa. They had not seen it yet, Niall _too_ tired to move, even Zayn going so far as to pull him off the bench, bribing him with lunch anywhere he loved but Niall shook his head, so Zayn took a seat near him.

“They’re still many people at this time,” commented Niall, his eyes looking on at a large number of people milling around them. He idly noted that some of them were taking pictures of _them_ and he stuck out his tongue, the girl behind the camera giggling with her friend. Niall smiled to himself, laying his head on Zayn’s shoulder.

“It’s still September.”

“People should have jobs.”

Zayn chuckled. “Do you not want people to enjoy themselves? Graunchy, you.”

In the spur of the moment, Niall lifted his head off Zayn’s shoulder, cupped his face and kissed his lips, then laid his head back on his shoulder.

“What was that for?”

“I love you.”

Zayn pressed his hand to Niall’s thigh. “I love you, Habibi.” Three children raced passed them, a moment later, their parent, Niall presumed, rushed forward, spitting French words at them to which they raced forward faster. “I had a dream about you yesterday. Us.”

“Us?” he asked, his eyes looking to where the children were headed.

“It was when we all first had a Christmas party together in Bus 1,” explained Zayn. “And we exchanged presents and watched movies all night long and you ended loving it despite your dislike for the holiday.”

Niall smiled at the memory. “I still don’t like Christmas but that was one of the best Christmases I had in ages.”

“We were the only two that kept the tradition of gift giving during Christmas,” said Zayn, Niall hearing the happiness in his voice. “We never failed apart from last year.”

“I got your gift,” said Niall, looking to Zayn. It was December 2016 and as per tradition, they had promised to send each other gifts but after Zayn’s quitting, Niall did not send one but Zayn did and he received it on Boxing Day.

They were two gifts inside the carefully wrapped box; the first was a framed photo of a selfie they took outside Bus 1, donned in a Santa hat and ugly green and red sweaters, and the second was a Blu-Ray DVD of _Home Alone_ with a sticky note written that it was Zayn’s favourite Christmas movie. What Niall did not tell Zayn or anyone, was that he spent that Boxing Day and the rest of the year, watching the movie at least once a day (he also placed the framed photo up on the chimney and ignoring Eleanor’s curious looks thereafter).

“Did you like them?” Zayn whispered.

“Loved them. Sorry I didn’t send anything.” The children Niall had been watching disappear around the corner and so did the mother.

“Understandable. Remember when we were outside, or I was outside smoking and you came out, and I asked you why you don’t like Christmas.”

Niall lifted his head off his shoulder, again, and gazed at his boyfriend, the corners of his lips tugging up. “You kept asking me that question even after I told you that people don’t celebrate Christmas for its real purpose.”

“I felt there was something more.”

“Bus 1 always had ears everywhere.”

Zayn chuckled. “We would spend all night talking until like two A.M. until Liam or Paul would threaten to kill us if we didn’t stop talking.”

Niall laughed, leaning forward to kiss Zayn’s dark stubble. “I loved those talks. Do you remember what I told you when you asked?”

“That Christmas was family and you weren’t sure about yours.”

“That was when Bobby left and it was going to be the first Christmas without him,” explained Niall. “That was also another reason I began to hate the holidays. Bobby broke our family.”

“Maybe this year things will look up?” he asked, sounding hopeful that Niall almost believed him. Almost.

“Maybe.”

“Option two is spending Christmas at my house,” Zayn continued, hearing the non-hopeful sound in Niall’s voice.

“Are we going to watch _Home Alone_?” he inquired.

“Of course!” Zayn patted his thigh twice and got off the bench, holding out both hands. “C’mon, Mona Lisa cannot keep waiting for us.”

Niall grinned up at Zayn. They were wearing matching jungle green t-shirts (Zayn rolling up the sleeves and seeing his tattoos even better) with the bullet necklace lying in the middle of his chest, his skin looking soft and smooth and _stunning_ even as Zayn made grabby grabby motions for him to stand.

“I love your t-shirt.”

Zayn looked down at his shirt, laughing at Niall. “Shut up! It’s because we’re matching.”

“I get to feel like an haute couture person when I dress the same as you.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, his chest shaking with giggles. “Is this you avoiding to come with me to see Mona Lisa?”

 Niall took Zayn’s hands in his, using his strength to stand up and lock their lips in the middle of the large, large hall full of paintings and persons. “I may not know much about Art,” he said, his nose brushing on Zayn’s, his nose ring rubbing on his own nose, “but you’re a masterpiece.”

Zayn blinked for a moment before laughing on Niall’s lips, his hands squeezing Niall’s. “You’re so fucking cheesy.”

“I promised to make you laugh on this trip, so I’m going to be an extra cheese.”

“Oh?” Zayn raised an eyebrow. He followed Niall, hand in hand, as they headed to the Mona Lisa painting.

“What did one light bulb say to another?”

“You light up my world?”

“You mean a watt to me!”

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

 

After the morning (mind-blowing) sex, Niall showered, got dressed, ate breakfast and was about to tell Zayn he was heading out for (his second) breakfast only to find him dead asleep. Great. He wrote a note informing him he was heading out for lunch (it was 11:03 A.M.) and would be back later.

Niall found himself in Le Jardin Botanique Jaune. He was sat on an elegant wooden chair and on his table were coloured French pastry delights with a cream pot of lovely tea he could barely contain his hands when it was all placed on his table. He poured himself tea as he sampled the yellow macarons.

On his way to his brunch – or early lunch because that was what it really was – he stopped by a newsstand that was selling magazines and newspapers. To appear worldly and smart and knowledgeable, he bought the Financial Times (knowing very well he would not read a word of it) and this month’s issue of Cosmopolitan but just as he was about to pay for it he saw a photo Zayn on the Paris Vogue cover.

Now, sitting back under the warm Paris sun, Paris Vogue in front of him (the Financial Times and Cosmo near his pastries), he was ready to read. He had forgotten about the Paris Vogue cover shoot, having thought it was for November, not September but alas, it was here. He flipped past the pages to Zayn’s interview (promising himself that he would later read the actual magazine)(or not because Vogue and he parted ways earlier in the year) which was quite far inside the magazine that those near his table glanced over at the loud paper-flipping.

 **INTERVIEWER:** I want to start by congratulating you on the Best Friend Tag video, it is at a staggering 950 million views! That’s huge, Zayn. It’s amongst the Top 10 most viewed Youtube videos. **  
Zayn:** Thanks bro. It’s insane to think so.

 **INT:** It seems that this year you’ve been hitting headlines. First, it was the famous Best Friend video and then the MTV VMAs. You publicly kissed Niall in front of the whole world and, dare I say, almost eclipsed Beyoncé at the Awards. **  
Z:** It was not my plan to do any of it but it was a long time coming. I’m a private person therefore that was not something I would do normally, but I don’t regret it.

 **INT:** How did Niall feel about it? **  
Z:** Surprise. Really, really surprised. Between us, he would be the one most likely to pull something like that.

Niall rolled his eyes. He wanted to deny it yet it was honestly true. Niall was the dramatic one in their relationship, the one who had the insane courage to do things such as kiss someone of the same sex in public, to manage to place enough snakes in someone’s kitchen or even to date one of the most attractive humans on this Earth.

Niall’s ears burned red as he drank his tea, his eyes scanning the magazine.

 **INT:** Apart from music, you have made your mark in the fashion industry. You have designed wicked shoes for Giuseppe which sold out after 24 hours and there are rumours that you met with Versace on collaborating on a fashion line. **  
Z:** It’s not a secret anymore. My ex-girlfriend is a huge influence in the fashion industry and she introduced me to all these fashion movers and shakers and one of them was Donatella. We had a chat and she had these amazing visions for a new line and she wanted someone who had the same vision as hers.

 **INT:** We wish you luck and we can’t wait to see your designs. Now, another reason you’re hitting the headlines is that you are quitting RCA. How come? **  
Z:** It was time for me.

 **INT:** Do we have hopes of listening to new music from you? **  
Z:** Very soon. I had written a song on my own time with Taylor Swift but with all the happenings with RCA that was not possible. I will release soon, though. However, there is no album soon, unfortunately, there have been some issues with it but I am working on it.

Niall looked up from the magazine to sight two couples feeding each other tiny Opera cakes. The issues Zayn had been facing when he had been in RCA were the contract issues regarding the music he released, what he could and could not do, et cetera. He skimmed through the interview, past Zayn talking about his career, about his raunchy Calvin Klein ad, the NOH8 campaign (those were good times, Niall remembered fondly), his family fully supporting him with his coming out (bullshit bullshit bullshit, Niall’s mind chanted as he read through it) to celebrate their anniversary.

 **INT:** You and your boyfriend, Niall Horan, have been dating for a little over two months now? **  
Z:** It does seem silly to be celebrating for something less than a year but what I have with Niall, it’s a miracle to be dating for even a week. Honestly, I would be celebrating weekly anniversaries but that would become too much.

 **INT:** How so? **  
Z:** Everything is completely new to us, the dating, the… everything and I’ve never done this before but with everything that we are achieving, day by day, I think we should celebrate the milestones, which we did for our two-month anniversary.

 **INT:** How did you spend your two-month anniversary? **  
Z:** We have this thing, Niall and I, where we are trying to eat in all the restaurants in London. For our anniversary, we tried to eat in at least 10 restaurants but _(laughter)_ that did not go down well and in the end, we were both nursing stomach aches.

 **INT:** That sounds horrible! Anniversaries are meant to be enjoyed and have lasting memories. **  
Z:** I do have lasting memories from that night. And I’d do it all over again with Niall… maybe without the stomach pains.

 **INT:** Is this what you two do, spend your time trying restaurants whenever you’re together? **  
Z:** We do try to spend as much time as we can together by going on drives, him colouring my hair _(runs his fingers through his violet-coloured hair)_ … Recently, he has been trying to convince me to watch _Once Upon A Time_ which is difficult.

 **INT:** How come? **  
Z:** I am more of a documentary sort of guy, watching histories of those who have shaped our lives in more ways than one which bores Niall to tears _(laughs)._ Nevertheless, he has been convincing me to watch _Once Upon A Time_ which is a show about fairytales coming to life and it describes Niall to a T. If there ever was a show with Niall’s name on it, _Once Upon A Time_ would be it… and he would probably faint if he were called to act in it.

Niall reached and brought the teacup to his mouth, smiling behind the lip of the cup. They had talked about it, as they started watching _Once Upon A Time_ , Niall stating how wicked it would be to be a real-life fairytale character while Zayn snorted and stated it would be _more_ beneficial if he were part of the movement that led to the fall of the Berlin Wall.

 **INT:** In an interview with a Swedish reporter, Niall stated how much you loved sleeping which was true when you were in One Direction. **  
Z:** _(laughs)_ I am sleeping _less_ now.

 **INT:** Are you? **  
Z:** It’s true that I do sleep a lot more than… is probably healthy and I did sleep a lot in my time when I was in One D. I don’t know what it is but I love sleeping – it should honestly be a hobby – but for a while now I haven’t… Don’t get me wrong, I value my sleep more than anything but I’ll stay up with Niall… Ironic though because Niall sleeps early.

 **INT:** He is? **  
Z:** By 10 P.M. he is drowsy!

 **INT:** With dating Niall, has your friendship with the rest of the band improved? We all remember the Twitter showdown that happened a few months back. **  
Z:** That was intense. Our relationship has improved and we are all talking with each other again but these things take time because none of us can forget what happened last year. It’s all thanks to Niall.

 **INT:** Because he’s the first one that reached out to you? Were you surprised? **  
Z:** I was. Extremely. I didn’t think he’d show up. Nevertheless, it’s all thanks to him that the five of us are all friends again and for that, I am eternally grateful. He’s become my rock, my bridge, my everything. I owe him my life.

 **INT:** Lastly, you are an inspiration to, not just your fans, but everyone including the LGBT+ community for bravely coming out and dating. **  
Z:** It’s disconcerting that we are talking about being openly gay as something of an inspiration because it shouldn’t… it should be normalized. It should be as normal as being straight.

 **INT:** Do you believe in labels? **  
Z:** No, I don’t. I believe labels, not just sexuality labels, divide us. We put so much effort into distinguishing between straight, bi, pansexual, male, female, black, white, whatever, when we don’t bother about loving each other as we are, wholly. Labels, I believe, are there for people who are trying to slap labels on people so they can fit other people into categories and definitions for them to understand. Labels are less for the people being labelled and more for those doing the labelling.

 **INT:** What would you call yourself then, if you don’t like the gay label? **  
Z:** Human.

 

 

Niall was back in their Suite, leaning against the Shangri-La hotel door toeing off his Chuck Taylor’s. He dropped the brown bag of takeaway from a restaurant another British tourist had recommended while at Le Jardin Botanique Jaune and dropping his newspaper and magazines on the couch. It was past 6 o’clock in the evening, the lights were all turned off but the TV was on. He made his way to the large living room, exhaustion slowing sinking into his veins and blinking slower. He found Zayn spread on the couch, fast asleep, his body facing the TV with one hand holding the remote that was on the carpeted floor. He took the remote from Zayn’s limp fingers, briefly glancing at the TV playing French music, and turned it off. He squatted before his boyfriend, his fingers coming forward to brush the fallen hair over his closed eyes.

A slow smile spread across Niall’s pink lips as he gazed at his heavenly boyfriend sleeping peacefully, remembering the times when Zayn would always be sleeping or sleepy. Not just this year but in One Direction as well. He bowed his head pressing it onto the edge of the plush couch and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry,” Niall said to no one in particular. “I’m shit at this love thing, at relationships because truly, I don’t really know what love is or how you’re supposed to act when the one you love is in trouble. I’m so out of my depths that… I find myself doing something I don’t normally do.” He breathed in slowly, the faint smell of cigarettes hitting his nostrils. “Praying.”

Niall was in on his head, his brain going a thousand miles a minute he did not hear the hitch of breath in Zayn’s even breathing.

“I’m not the… most religious of persons,” he said, with a throaty laugh, “I’m not one to go to church but I’ve found myself praying lately. You praying to Allah daily has inspired me somewhat to renew my faith in God. I’ve been talking about you to Him, asking, and begging Him to make your pain go away. Or lessen it… or something,” he raised his head from the couch, staring at Zayn’s button nose with the blue stud, “I don’t know, though, just as long as you’re joyful again.”

He pressed his forehead back on the couch, heavily breathing.

“I turned my back on religion years ago, we were re-touring, making an album, making friends, going to new cities, life was good and God just… did not exist. He did but He was… sort of gone? Like, He disappeared. And now I have never wanted Him more than I do now.”

A tear dropped to the floor from his Irish skin, then another and another. He took Zayn’s limp hand, cupping both of his hands to his, his thumbs drawing patterns on the back of Zayn’s tatted hand. The owner of the hand’s body was stilled on the couch, his ears listening intently to Niall’s private conversation with God about him.

“Dear God,” he prayed, “there’s so much shit going on in this world. There are murderous, and rapists, and terrorists, people who eat Hawaiian pizza and then there’s me, a worse sinner. I have no reason to even ask you for anything, I don’t have the right to, but… Ma says you have the most compassionate of hearts and full of mercy and with the little faith I have, I ask that you may look after Zayn. _My_ Zayn.”

Zayn opened his eyes then and found himself looking at the crown of Niall’s head, a cotton of brown hair.

“He wears far too many leather jackets thinking he’s cool – _he is_ – and his hair is soft and nice and pretty that it’s not fair, and his eyelashes are to die for. He is immensely talented and wears his heart on his sleeve. People misunderstand him because he’s not great with words and does not talk much. He reads great books like Tolstoy, Wilde, bloody authors I can’t even pronounce and the only iconic author I know from his list is Shakespeare and that doesn’t even count, which he makes fun of me for it but I don’t care because Zayn is a thousand ways smarter than me, than the entire world.

“I read books like _The Fault in our Stars_ whereas he reads _Crime and Punishment_ for fun. One time he gave me a book, _Wuthering Heights_ , and said I would love it. It’s a thick book, and long, and has too many intelligent words and I told him that. He didn’t say anything, like always, but I felt bad so I picked up the book again and began reading it. I’ve never told him that I read it. I never admitted that I was wrong and that the book was a perfect fit for me – it was one of those romantic novels with plenty of drama on each page with Heathcliff and Catherine and Nelly and—and he got it right. He does that a lot, getting it right by me.”

Zayn shut his eyes fast when Niall’s head popped up. He felt Niall’s fingers brush his hair, lightly tracing along his hairline down to his ear. Zayn was trying very hard not to smile at the touch.

“I’m so, so privileged to be loved by him and, for some incredible reason, he is in love with me. He’s my first love and I love him extremely, God, so, so much, with every waking bone in my body. I love him more and more every day if that’s possible but… it is possible to fall in love a little more each day.

“Therefore, dear God, I beg of you to please look after him because I don’t think I can,” he whimpered, voice low, “All I can do is love him but that’s not enough and I’m afraid he’ll never be happy again and it’ll be all my fault – no matter how much he denies it – and it’s ridiculous but I don’t want him to die of a heartbreak. I don’t want him to _live_ with a heartbreak. Please, kind God, please. I’ll do anything. Just please be with him and look after him.”

Niall remained silent thereafter, the silence stretching with Zayn not wanting to say anything and Niall’s head remaining bowed. Zayn fluttered his eyes shut, Niall’s breathing sounding heavier and whimpered and he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing the lump in his throat. Niall’s crying definitely contagious as it was catching up to him.

Niall raised his head, wiping his wet cheeks and froze. Zayn was looking at him, dead in the eye and he let out a scream.

Niall squawked. “You-you’re awake?! You were sleeping!”

The corner of Zayn’s lip lifted. “You’re pretty loud.”

“How long have you been awake?” he asked, looking scandalized.

Zayn looked at him for a moment. “I pray for you, too.”

“So you heard everything?” he asked, his cheeks flushed and he was looking at the back of the couch, avoiding Zayn’s gaze. A silence stretched before them for several seconds. “Fuck me.”

“Thank you for reading _Wuthering Heights_. And I knew you had read it.”

Niall frowned, narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend. “How?”

“When I slept over and I think you forgot but you had it bookmarked and left it inside the drawer of your bedside table.”

Niall ran his hand down his face. “Fuck me.”

“I’m sorry for being a horrible company.”

“You’re not.”

Zayn sat up on the couch then slid down to sit with Niall on the carpet floor of their hotel Suite. “Bullshit. I made you leave for a whole day.”

“I’m sorry for n—”

Zayn cupped his hand over Niall’s mouth. “I’m apologizing, Habibi. And I’ve been a shitty boyfriend ever since we came to Paris and you had this wonderful trip planned but so far we—I haven’t done anything with you and—I want too. We came here together to forget… or get away.” He lowered his hand to Niall’s thigh.

“We have two options then” he declared after Zayn remained silent. “We talk about it with dinner or we talk about it later but have dinner.”

“Didn’t you eat?”

Niall gave him a flat look before snorting with a _Please_. He walked away from the living then came back holding his previous brown bag and joined Zayn on the floor.

“I spent the day wandering around, met up with some British person who showed me this tiny restaurant that made really good kebabs so…” he trailed off, as Zayn peered into the bag with said food. “Oh, the macarons were from the Jardin Bot _something_ Jaune—I think that’s how it’s pronounced. Too delicious to pass up so I bought some for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” said Zayn, smiling down at the halal kebab in his hand.

“Please,” he said waving his hand dismissively, “I shouldn’t have just walked out. What did you do the whole day?”

Zayn took a bite of the kebab. “Just chill.” Zayn shut his eyes in pleasure, not so much because it was kebab, but because it was food. He knew that Room Service did exist, 24-hours no less at the Shangri-La but with spending the entire day Niall-less, he forgot and instead remained anxious waiting for his boyfriend to return. “Smoke. Draw for Versace.” He took another bite. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” said Niall, his cheeks pink. He looked elsewhere, Zayn’s jawline working as he chewed having him feel some type of way, and he gestured to the TV. “What were you watching?”

“I am almost certain daytime TV is boring universally, not just in England.”

“Better for you because you, for some reason, can understand French,” groaned Niall. “I swear you secretly speak Russian, you just haven’t told me.”

Zayn chuckled, adding chilli sauce onto his kebab. “I’d love to learn Russian.”

“Please don’t cause then you’d know 20 languages and it’d suck because whichever country we go to, you’ll know their language… Better yet,” he added, a sudden thought occurring to him, “do learn Russian because then we’d stop being tourists and act like locals.”

Zayn hummed around a mouthful. “Only dating me because I’m multilingual?”

“And other things,” he said leaning forward and locking their lips.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” he asked him.

Niall went ahead by happily listing all the places he had planned to visit the following day, and if Zayn rolled his eyes at the sheer cheesiness and rainbow _ness_ of it all, he whacked him on the back of his head and continued pointing out that they were in Paris and well, it was the City of Love.

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

“Maybe it’s moving faster than it looks.”

Hand-in-hand, Zayn and Niall were walking to Palace of Versailles from the train station. Ahead of them, in all its grandeur and glory, was the famous Palace belonging to the last King of France, Louis XIV and his wife Marie-Antoinette. Walking closer to the Palace, it was surrounded by golden gates and outside the said majestic gates was a long, long queue that stretched to the moon.

“Lucky for us it’s not glaringly hot today,” said Zayn.

The plan, or rather the Paris Itinerary, had been Eiffel Tower, Eiffel Tower, and mixed with Niall’s Irish accent, Tour d’Eiffel (that had Zayn snickering in the train that Parisians gave them amused glances) but Zayn said that they should end their stay in Paris with the Eiffel Tower, and do everything else first. And first on that Itinerary was the Palace of Versailles.

They joined the back of the queue and to Niall’s relief, it was moving but at a snail’s speed.

“Maybe we should’ve come in the afternoon.”

“I was told it’s worse,” Niall said. He reached into his backpack that Zayn wounded up wearing because he lost in a rock-paper-scissors game, and removed Zayn’s sunnies and his Irish snapback.

“Thanks, Habibi,” he said, pressing his lips to Niall’s jaw then wearing his sunglasses

“I am going to burn like a lobster with all this sun,” whined Niall, looking up at the clear blue sky. “I’m going to be so red I’ll be like that dying rose Beast kept in a glass.”

“There are so many things that are red and you picked on something so specific.”

Niall gave him a flat look. “It’s _Beauty and the Beast_ , why not?”

“For someone who is all romantic at heart, you’re sad because you don’t like roses.”

“They’re cliché.”

“You’re a walking cliché,” Zayn reminded him. They took several steps forward in the moving, yet slow, queue. “I also have something to admit.” Niall looked from the majestic golden gates surrounding the Palace to his boyfriend. “Since you told me about _Wuthering Heights_ , I have something to tell you.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t like hospitals, you know that,” Zayn began. “When I was in the hospital for exhaustion, it was… lonely.” He sounded as if he were testing the word on his tongue, before he repeated it again, more sure of the word. “Lonely. I had my family around me, Safaa was laying with me, Gigi had bought a bunch of chocolates, my mom was fussing with the nurse about my health, my father never left the seat by my bed but I still felt lonely. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that they were there but it was….”

Niall nodded in understanding when Zayn’s sentence trailed off.

“But when you were there, it was different.”

“How? All I did was yell at you for being an idiot for not sleeping.” Niall was grinning at him, remembering how he gave Zayn his two cents.

“Yes, despite that, I felt as if I could take myself seriously in sleeping and eating better.” Zayn hung is head a little. “I hadn’t felt cared for in a long time… and you hugged me.”

Niall cupped Zayn’s cheeks with his warm hands. “Of course I did! That’s Nursing 101: Hugs. They can cure cancer,” Niall added, grinning brightly. “You know they cared, all of them, they were just confused and were trying to get their head around you being exhausted all the time.”

Zayn wanted to say more, to admit that he felt a hundred times better when Niall arrived in his hospital room. He felt as if the exhaustion disappeared with a click of the finger the moment Niall arrived; no medicine, no amount of love from his ex-girlfriend, no amount of fussing from his parents at nurses to give him their best care, not even the laughter’s from his sisters and cousins compared to what Niall made him feel when he arrived, chiding him for not sleeping and going ahead to sleep on his chest as he played Candy Crush on Niall’s phone.

Nothing compared.

Niall truly had the sun running in his veins and as the both of them grew closer, the sun lost nothing when it gave its light to the moon that preferred the darkness. Perhaps one day, they would burn brightly, together.

Zayn secretly smiled to himself. “Maybe.”

“I’m too tired,” Niall flopped down the grass almost three hours later, leaning against a thick tree, sighing in joy when his legs rested on the cool grass. Zayn joined him on the grass, laying his head on Niall’s lap and taking a minute to close his eyes. “I think I’ve earned myself on eating two pizzas.”

Zayn chuckled softly on Niall’s lap. “Or burgers. I’ve missed burgers for some reason.”

“We should eat some after we see the waterworks.” As part of the tour of the great Palace, at specified times there would be wondrous waterworks in the many man-made lakes around the large grounds. “It says here it’ll start at four,” he said, reading the pamphlet as Zayn looked at his watch. “This Louis guy was pretty rich.”

Zayn snorted. “More like Wealthy McWealthy Wealth. He was probably richer than the Top 20 on Forbes _combined_.”

They fell into a peaceful silence, with Zayn (most probably) falling asleep and Niall feeling himself completely relax. The last several weeks had been hectic, for sure, and finding even the time to sit up against the bark of a cool tree with his boyfriend on his lap was more than he could ask for. He found his fingers in Zayn’s silky hair, massaging his scalp, eliciting hums from the Bradford boy.

“Has anyone told you how amazing your hands are?”

“You, yesterday.”

A small smirk played on Zayn’s lips. Zayn looked up at Niall to find him already gazing down at him, his eyes glittering with this week’s shenanigans. Zayn closed his eyes once more, saying, “Have you ever thought of becoming a hairdresser?”

“Touching people’s hair?” he scowled. “With my own hands? Absolutely not. I might catch dandruff or something.”

Zayn popped one eye open. “Pretty sure you cannot catch dandruff that way, Habibi.”

“Or some hair disease,” he continued, unperturbed. “Or worse, lice. Or leeches!”

“I’m not continuing this conversation,” said a bemused Zayn. “You’re bonkers. But I love you.”

Niall laughed, his hand still in Zayn’s hair. “I love you, Snookums.”

Moments passed them, tourists walking around them, others settling near the fountain that was scheduled to start soon. Zayn got off his lap, choosing to lean against the large evergreen tree with him, the column of his neck stretched back against the tree and the length of his leg pressed to Niall’s. His foot bopped with Niall’s purple Chuck Taylor’s, a present he bought for him on his birthday.

“I wish I could go back to playing with lightsabers and reading comics in my room,” said Zayn, twirling the Deadpool ring in his hand.

“You had lightsabers when you were young?”

“I practically forced my father to buy me one when all my friends and cousins had them. We would go to my Auntie’s place – she had a bigger backyard – and we’d play the whole afternoon and often my Auntie would let us sleep over. She’s was super wicked because she let us stay up until like two in the morning.”

Niall smiled softly but said nothing. Zayn was twirling the Deadpool ring he gifted him months ago on his index finger, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth as if contemplating something. Actually, he could tell Zayn was contemplating something and Niall gave him time.

Niall himself was not a comics – or Star Wars for that matter –boy when growing up. He was all football, football, football. He grew up dreaming of joining the large English teams such as Manchester City, Liverpool, Chelsea, Tottenham, heck even Manchester United (though he is a little sceptical at that one), having posters of Giggs, Hagi, Zola and of course the legends such as Maradona, Pele, Maldini and who forgets the daredevil David Beckham?, all stuck to his walls of his tiny bedroom. But he grew up, his knee happened and he was forced to change tactics.

Niall was not one to let life get him down, something horrible happened he would let himself get angry, or sad, or upset by it, brush it off his shoulders and keep walking. When his knee fractured from a football accident, he was angry as he tore down the posters from his walls with angry tears, screaming at himself, screaming at God, at the football that caught him, at the doctor for doing nothing, at… well, the entire universe. Two weeks later, he was fine. Honest. He had come to accept his Fate and it was time for a new Destiny.

However, as he came to learn, people did not wash off their pasts as easily as he did and one of those people was Zayn.

“Lately, I’ve been wanting to do nothing but go back to that time, when I was in my room, reading every issue of every comic out there, Batman mainly, but I don’t discriminate,” he chuckled and Niall grinned at him. “But life is hard.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Zayn tiredly sighed. He shifted on the spot, bringing his legs close and Niall automatically did the same, and they sat facing each other under the tree providing shade from the sun.

“More than anything I miss my mom, and I don’t think you ever stop because even when I had moved to L.A. after I quit the band, I would miss her constantly. Don’t get me wrong, I missed my sisters, too, but there’s just something about moms.

“But I don’t miss my father. I’m angry at him, so, so angry that I don’t have space to miss him, all I have is hate. I can hear my mom, in my head, defending him, ‘He’s your father, sunshine. He’s your father’ but how can he be when he hates me? That’s not love.

“When I told my father that I wanted to be a veterinarian surgeon, he put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye and the amount of pride and respect that flooded from him was… breathtaking. I felt like I could stand on mountaintops, I could fly like Superman, that I could be the world’s greatest all because my father believed in me. He was proud.

“Then his heart stopped and I did everything to help him. I sold my pets, all of them, and garnered enough money. It wasn’t enough so I auditioned for X Factor because of the prize money. Next thing I know I’m in some band with four other idiots,”— he winked and Niall laughed — “and we were making an album. I did get the money and my father was fine. When he came home he gave me that same proud look and I stayed in the band.

“It was so good that I forgot completely about being a vet. When I think about it, everything I’ve ever done, it’s all been for him. I did everything for him all because I wanted to feel like I did that time when he looked at me, at his son with pride and respect and love.”

“You were fighting for your father’s approval…” said Niall, not so much a question but as a statement.

“That’s the thing, I was fighting for it not _earning_ it. I think I lost the fight when I quit the band,” he admitted, voice low his eyes fixed on Niall’s shoulder. “Or way before that but I felt it when I quit the band but I ignored it.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Suddenly everything I did was wrong. I was making the biggest mistake in my life by quitting, I was moving too far, I was never home enough, Mind of Mine was not as good as FOUR, I was not thinking of settling down, I wasn’t dating Muslim girls, I was…”

“If he had a problem with Perrie, did he have a heart attack when we became public?”

Zayn chuckled softly before the smile disappeared from his face. “I’m his son. You would think that would mean something,” his voice wavered and Niall’s face cracked at the poor sight of his boyfriend. “But it doesn’t. It means shit to him. That’s what got to me, Habibi. I am nothing to him and when that hit me is when I completely shut down and I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, alarmed. Zayn’s eyes were brimming.

“I used you to make my pain go away.”

“No need to apologize. We all use sex to forget for a while.”

“ _We_ don’t. We’re not those couples, we agreed sex would be loving and would mean something between us but it—wasn’t.”

Niall took Zayn’s left hand in both of his. “I called Bobby.” Zayn raised his gaze to him. “I called him when I went to the Garden after I read your Vogue interview.” Zayn shyly smiled. “It was awkward and stilted and too many silences but… I missed it. Him. I missed Bobby.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Nothing much, really. How Man City is winning in the League. Guinness will always be the best beer. Ma’s wedding. You. We talked a lot about you.” Zayn’s brows crunched, questioningly. “He asked if your family would be at Ma’s wedding, he would love to meet them.” Zayn shut his eyes and tear tracks poured down his face. “I told him only Jawaad and Hadiyya would be there and he volunteered to beat up the cousins that hurt your hand.”

Zayn half sobbed, half laughed. “You didn’t!”

“He did. He said he would call all of Mullingar and I said I’d pay for the plane tickets and we would literally march to Bradford.”

Zayn was now laughing, watery, his forehead bowed and his hands holding onto Niall’s with mixed tears wet on his face. Niall watched him laugh, something he never did often (and something he had been saying from the beginning!), from as far as 2014, Zayn’s smile had forever been paling. His laughter faded out, looking on at Niall lovingly.

“Your dad sounds amazing.”

“He is,” Niall quickly agreed. “But don’t expect us to be buddies any time soon.”

“I just wanted you to call him and that’s enough for me.”

“Even if we don’t…”

Zayn understood what he was implying. “You won’t get the chance to regret not being around more often.”

“What about you and Yaser? What happens now?” he asked the million dollar question.

“I… I feel free,” he said, finding his voice. “I feel freer than when I quit the band. It’s… almost euphoric because I feel as if I can do anything, anything at all. I can be a vet, finally, but I can also do so much more.”

“Like a kid tasting beer for the first time?”

Zayn giggled. “Exactly like that. More than that because you know that moment when you feel like you have super powers and you’re ten times stronger and you realize that no, you’re not high nor are you on a bad batch of LSD but it’s your life and you have a choice?”

“I’ve never done LSD but I’ll keep nodding,” said Niall his voice laced with giggles.

“I get to choose what I want, not what anyone else wants for me. I decide what’s good for me, learn from my mistakes, try this, try that but at the end of the day I get to say that I chose my life, I did not settle for it. Because at the end of the day we get to choose our life.”

“What do you choose?”

“I don’t know as of yet but I know I choose you, always. I choose to give you everything that I am and have, in all that I do, it’s yours. My body, my mind, my heart you have it all, Niall, do what you will; I give you my all.”

Niall froze. His mouth had fallen to his lap, his eyes as wide as the golf balls he so loved. But before he could reply, or kiss him senseless, or hug him until he squeezed all the air out of Zayn, many people had gathered around the fountains and at a closer look, the fountain waterworks had begun.

They, with great luck, found a spot on the edge of the man-made lake where they could see the fountain works perfectly. Beside him, Zayn had his phone out, taking photos of the fountain and Niall found his mind wandering off, gently laying his head on Zayn’s shoulder.

Minutes passed between them, watching the waterworks of the great fountain display and Niall finding himself relax more and more on Zayn’s shoulder, people’s chatter a background noise.

“Say cheese!” Zayn called out and Niall took his head off his shoulder, sticking his tongue out for a selfie. “You look so red,” he looked up from his phone then, “you should have let me put sunscreen on you… what? Is there something on my face?”

“Apart from beauty?” teased Niall.

Zayn rolled his eyes at the cheesiness and turned back to the selfie he had taken of them, posting it on his Instagram account. Niall poked him below his ribs to get his attention back. The colour of autumn leaves gazed at him fondly, crinkling on the corner of Zayn’s eyes.

“An ha beck,” he said, with utmost love and fond in his voice. But it fell flat because Zayn was looking at him funny.

“What?”

“An,” he began, suddenly unsure if he was saying the right words, “ha… he beck. Beck Ha?”

Laughter rose in Zayn’s throat. “What are you saying? The sun hasn’t gotten to you has it?”

Niall turned as much as possible to Zayn, racking his brain for the three-letter word he had mesmerized on the train ride to the Palace… and he was fumbling with trying to remember what the word was.

“Anna Beckha.”

“Habibi, what are you trying to say?”

Niall changed tactic and went for French. “Je t’aime, mon amour.”

Zayn grinned, pressing his lips against Niall’s then he pulled back, eyes searching Niall’s. “Is that what you were trying to say? Ana Bahebak?”

“That’s it!” he exclaimed. “Ana Bahebak! Arabic is really hard.”

“Ana Bahebak, Habibi.”

Zayn’s hand came to the back of his hot neck, pulling him close to him. He brushed his lips on Niall’s, not really kissing him, with his fingers carding themselves into Niall’s soft cotton hair. He captured his lips heatedly, then, breathing sharply through his nose.

Niall kissed him back eagerly nibbling on his bottom lip, forgetting the world around them, forgetting about their problems, forgetting about the past, the hate, the tears and the screams. It all faded into the back when Zayn’s tongue pressed against his, wet and warm, his mind screaming _moremoremore_. His hand snaked underneath the small of Zayn’s back, opening his mouth to Zayn, and his blunt nails dug into his skin as he tasted Zayn on his lips and on his tongue.

_I don’t know as of yet but I know I choose you, always._

The thing was, Zayn always chose him. Time and time again he always chose him and it was not just now when they were exclusive but way before. They chose each other, they proactively did. Niall chose to talk to him on Twitter, Niall chose to be his friend again, Niall picked Zayn when his friends and family thought it was unwise. Zayn chose Niall by trusting in him. When it came to his career by getting a new lawyer, when it came to his love life on being a shoulder to lean on, when it came to save him from his family, when he picked him, him, and him, over and over again.

Niall cradled his hands on Zayn’s face, his dark stubble soft on his palms. He kissed him unabashedly, their lips swollen from the kissing but Niall did not care. He pressed up against him, gently nudging him back until Zayn was laying on his back on the grounds of the Palace, his hands wrapping around Niall’s fuzzy arms. His tongue licked Zayn’s bottom lip before capturing it between his teeth gently tugging and Zayn’s hands tightening on his arms.

Saying _I love you_ was great and all but choosing someone, over and over, without a doubt in their mind, was more powerful and eternal.

“I choose you,” he sounded wrecked, voice hoarse and spent, “I always choose you, too.” The smile Zayn gave him was blinding, his teeth stuck behind his pearly whites and eyes sparkling, up at Niall and not just because of the shining sun. “You have me, all of me.” He pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, and another and another. Do not blame him, Zayn’s lips were addictive. “I am yours, all of me.”

Zayn threw his head back to the ground, his arms around Niall’s shoulder and hugging him tightly.

**~ ~  *  ~ ~**

“SNOOKUMS!”

Niall scrambled off the couch in the living area of their Shangri-La hotel Suite but he was too quick, his feet not quite connected to his brain and he fell flat on the ground. He groaned, his hand cupping his bad knee.

“SNOOKUMS!”

He was up on his feet, his Samsung tightly clutched in his left hand and running towards the large bedroom before bumping hard on his boyfriend who was exiting the bedroom.

“My nose!” cried Zayn, hand covering his nose. “Why are you running? I was coming to you.”

Shoving his phone into his hand, Niall demanded, “Read this!”

Niall had been scrolling down his Instagram, liking photos, rolling his eyes at photos of Harry and Freddie, wanting to see where Eleanor and Black Thor had gone for their date last night, then went ahead to Twitter where he was once again scrolling down his timeline, before saying hello to all and tweeting a winky face to Zayn for the selfie they took in matching PJs last night before going to bed.

His mentions were always blowing up, mainly from fans, but today they were extra. According to, well, _everyone_ , RCA was under fire. If the fans were to be believed (and they were), Zayn’s quitting of RCA unleashed secrets, terrible, terrible secrets that revolved around sexual harassment and assault allegations. The C.E.O of RCA Records, Mr Harvey Berliner, was being accused of sexual harassment and assault from artists under his label.

“Sexual assault?” gawked Zayn, his eyes widening by the minute as he read The New York Times article.

According to The NY Times article, two women, Shakayra and Nikole Sharsinger, came forward accusing Mr Berliner of sexually assaulting them and ever since the allegation, more and more artists had come forward from the label accusing him of the same, including harassment. Some of them included Taylor Swift, Mikky Ekko, Le Roux, Kygo, Kesha, Jamie Foxx, Chris Brown, and on and on and on the list continued and adding more gas to the fire, Mr Berliner was fired from the Record label and taken in by NY police.

“He’s been jailed?” Zayn barely mumbled, still in shock.

That was not enough.

Louis was now in the centre of all this mess, along with Simon Cowell. After reading the winding story from Billboard, Simon Cowell knew about Mr Berliner’s sexual escapades with artists signed to his label and, with this information, he signed off Zayn onto the label and it was not as if Zayn had a choice, it was either he signed with the label, remain with One Direction, or he would never make music again. Now everyone knew this little information and Directioners were downright angry at Louis for being a bad friend and to Simon for coercing Zayn into signing onto RCA.

It had only been three days since then – Niall internally wondering how he was out of the loop from all this for _this_ long – but things had escalated really quickly and they were still escalating, more people coming forward accusing Mr Berliner, rumours going around of Simon being questioned including Louis but the most of all, the one that got Niall screaming out for Zayn was Gigi’s tweet.

 **GiGi @itsgigihadid**  
_@zaynmalik I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me. My heart goes out to you #MeToo_

Zayn hung his head, his hands limp by his side. He turned away from Niall, walking to their large bed, sitting on it with his head bowed low.

“You could’ve told me.”

“Nothing… happened,” he said, nervously toying with Niall’s Samsung in his right hand. “We didn’t do anything, Niall. He didn’t tou—we didn’t have sex.”

“You don’t have to have sex for it to be an assault or harassment.”

Zayn bit his bottom lip tensely. “I told Gigi about Harvey and she said this is what happens in the industry. But, in my mind, I knew it wasn’t true – I mean, we didn’t have the same treatment with Simon so why now?”

Niall gulped. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, paused, shaking his head more to himself than at Niall, then repeated with a dull voice, “Nothing.”

“Snookums, you can tell me.”

Zayn nibbled his bottom lip, his eyes searching Niall’s baby blues, gauging to see if it was safe. Niall was holding his hand tightly, his face nothing but compassion and calm and Zayn felt his beating heart beneath his ribs slow to a lull. He gazed away from, exhaling unsteadily from his lips, and squeezed Niall’s hand back.

“We were at a party, my welcoming party to the label,” began Zayn. “We were at Harvey’s mansion; Sarah, my previous manager, Mykel, Don and Jawaad were there, too, and it was fun. We had fun, I guess. Well, I was. I had quit the band and I felt freedom for a long time because now I could make real music and it was sweet. Besides, Simon had helped me get into RCA, who was I to complain?”

Niall nodded in understanding. He was sat opposite him on the large bed, his hands on Zayn’s ankles who was sat criss-cross with a soft pillow on his lap that he had been fidgeting with the corner of it.

“We were drinking, I was making sure not to get to drunk – I had to make a good impression, didn’t I? – and I got to meet Chris Brown, Imogen Heap, Guy Sebastian, and many others it all felt unreal. Then later into the night, Sarah called me to introduce me to the C.E.O of RCA and it was out of this world,” he smiled genuinely, briefly before he bowed his head, “and he said he wanted to have a chat.

“Something felt off, I don’t know,” – his grip on the pillow tightened – “but I just was so happy to have left one D I didn’t question it. So we went upstairs to some room, I got odd looks from some people but I ignored them, blaming them for being jealous and not having a private one-on-one with the boss.”

“It’s like meeting Ryan Reynolds,” joked Niall, sighing happily that Zayn laughed, too. Ryan Reynolds was the actor who played Deadpool in his favourite movie _Deadpool_.

“That would be a proper dream,” mused Zayn. “So we were in some room, he poured scotch of some shit, I don’t know, but I didn’t feel like drinking. So he made small talk about my music direction, vision, goals, whathaveyou, what I wanted, and then he asked if I was seeing anyone.”

“Were you?”

Zayn shook his head. “Nothing serious. I told him I wasn’t and he said, ‘Good.’ Before I could ask why it was, he said I was handsome and something about being with men and—I was out of it because he was suddenly close to me and the room was getting smaller and—” Zayn shut his eyes tightly, inhaling sharply. “I told him I wasn’t gay, he said, ‘Me too’ and he asked me to take off my shirt. I refused and he ‘reminded’” – he made air quotes – “me of Simon’s deal of either signing with him or not make music anymore so I took it off.”

Niall was affronted. “You should’ve punched him!”

“I wanted out, Habibi. I wanted out and I was so desperate for this, I agreed. I just stood there as his eyes went over me, lingering and just… staring. He then asked me to take off my jeans and I did. I was so scared,” he whispered, his eyes glazing over, a death grip on the pillow. “I was so scared I… I wanted to take it all back. I wanted to run out, tell Simon that I didn’t care about music; that it was fine, I’d find something else to do with my life, but I couldn’t move.”

Niall held his ankles tightly as he pictured beating the shit out of this Mr Berliner man, Simon and Louis.

“I was relieved when he didn’t rape me. Fuck, I was so, so happy I thanked Allah so much,” he said, “that that horrible man did not rape me. But he… he got… off.”

“He got off?” questioned Niall. “What does that mean?”

“He got off me…”

“I don’t… understand. What do you mean?” he asked but Zayn remained silent. His jaw clenched as his eyes never wavered from Niall’s. Together they looked at each other, the moments passing, the words playing over and over in his head until pop! It sank in. Harvey Berliner masturbated in front of Zayn. “No,” he barely uttered the word. “He didn’t…”

Zayn broke their gaze when he was it dawning on Niall, looking down at his boyfriend’s hand on his feet. “I ran out of the room as fast I could, grabbing my clothes not bothering to wear anything and locked myself in the bathroom. I stayed in there for who knows how long. You were the first person I wanted to call.”

“You should’ve!”

Zayn shook his head. “You wouldn’t have answered.”

“Bullshit.”

“Niall, I just left the band,” he reminded Niall who remained quiet. “I couldn’t call my mom, don’t want her worrying, or Louis, couldn’t tell my sister or Jawaad so I told Sarah the following day. She implied that this was what happened at RCA, Harvey did this on the regular and more than two-thirds of those signed to his label were, in one way or another, sexually violated. It became the norm.”

“She fucking knew what was going to happen?” yelled Niall. “She knew and did nothing?”

Zayn chewed on his bottom lip before speaking. “The second time it was in his office, this time he personally phoned me. I went straight home and drank myself into oblivion. It happened two times before he completely stopped. When Louis came to visit that time, we were in the backyard, getting high and shit and he told me. He told me everything.”

“Told you…?”

“He said that Simon indirectly was told by Harvey what he wanted to do with me and Simon said that I wouldn’t be a problem,” he said and Niall’s eyes bulged out of his body. “I would comply because I didn’t have a choice; I never had a choice, to begin with. It was part of the reason I could not make music freely because Simon knew that Harvey was a sexual predator and he could take this information to the police so he obliged to Simon’s demands. He apologized.”

“Simon?”

Zayn shook his head. “Louis. For not stopping Simon. He said he was angry at me and—”

“I was pissed off at you but that doesn’t make it alright, Zayn.”

Zayn startled at Niall’s outburst, blinking severally at Niall as his hold on the pillow loosened.

“Louis knew, he fully well knew what Mr Berliner was doing to you, he knew what he was making you do and yet he stood by and did nothing? I was pissed off that you left the band, yes, but I wouldn’t wish this upon you because what happened is disgusting and horrible.”

“Louis apologized and also Sarah.”

“Louis is a fucking asshole, that’s all he’ll ever be! I can’t believe you’re defending that shithole,” shouted Niall, angry and mad. “Louis knowingly hurt you, along with Sarah and Mr Berliner and Simon, but Louis had the power to stop it. He had the power to speak but he didn’t.”

“He’s the one who told Simon to tell Harvey to stop.”

“After he was satisfied?” scoffed Niall, fuming. “That means it’s all alright, then? It doesn’t change anything nor does saying sorry. But Mr Berliner should’ve known better, not to pry. He’s created this rape culture within his own fucking shit label and it’s not bloody okay because it’s become a norm and unfortunately, you got dragged into it.”

Zayn opened his mouth but was cut off.

“And why didn’t you tell me?” Niall demanded.

“I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t want you to treat me differently,” admitted Zayn unable to look directly at his boyfriend.

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” Niall swore. Zayn simply looked at him. “You know that Zayn?”

“I know, I know, but… how do you even admit that you were so desperate for a fresh start you let a creepy old man jerk off as you stood there?”

“I would still love you, Snookums, you know that.”

“I told the girl I was with before Gigi and she broke up with me, there and then, saying I had a lot of emotional baggage. When Gigi and I started dating I told her and she was cool with it, or so I thought.”

Niall’s blood began to boil again. “What did she do?”

“She said these things happen and we don’t have control over it and I honestly thought she understood but for months she would… we would barely do anything past kissing. She barely looked my way, always making excuses that she was busy, she was on her periods, she was tired. Other times she’d blame me for leading Harvey on, for bringing this onto myself and that I deserved what came to me. For months this continued until I told her if she wanted to leave then she could, I wouldn’t blame her.”

Niall gritted his teeth. “Fuck her!”

A small smile passed Zayn’s lips so quick Niall thought he imagined it. “We broke up but the following week we were back together. Listen, Niall,” Zayn said, looking Niall in the eye properly, “it was last year and I made my peace with it. I think it’s brave what Shakayra and Nikole Sharsinger have done by coming forward, including everyone else at RCA, but it’s over. All of it.”

“So you didn’t tell me because you thought I’d be like everyone else?”

Zayn’s teeth ground on his bottom lip, briefly nodding at him, his eyes wide and searching and a little scared.

“Even before we started dating and you told me, I would’ve stuck by your side, Zayn. I wouldn’t leave you because of that nor would I treat you differently. And now that we are dating, I still wouldn’t. I’m in love with you, Zayn, we’re together in this, remember?” Zayn nodded, earnestly, and honestly relieved. “Are you going to… come forward?”

“No.”

Niall nodded once, squeezing his shoulder. “You don’t have to, you know. It’s all up to you.”

“It’s not that. I would love to share with the world, show others that they are not alone and that also men do get unwanted sexual advances but… I’ve never told my family any of this. I can’t imagine what my mom would go through when she read in some magazine or a tweet that her son was sexually assaulted by his boss.”

“You didn’t tell Doniya? She was there with you that night.”

  “I was confused that night. But I told Jawaad,” Zayn admitted and Niall gave him a proud smile, “and we ended up spray painting Harvey and Sarah’s cars in the dead of the night.”

Niall almost cried with relief.

“Mr Berliner will get what he deserves in the end. I’ve read some articles stating that everybody is following your footsteps by quitting and already 60 percent of those signed to his label have left.”

“That’s not why I left though.”

“Karma, Zayn,” said Niall. “Simon’s already being questioned by the UK police, Louis as well and as much as Eleanor and you stated that making Louis lose custody of Freddie was wrong—”

“—That’s his son, Habibi!”

“Briana now has a chance of getting full custody of her son with this news which I think she will.”

Zayn narrowed his eyes. “What have you done Habibi? I smell a scheme.”

“I may have told Greg to tell Briana to read about this whole scandal and indirectly tell her that she has a fighting chance of getting her son.”

“Niall…” he said, warningly.

Niall sighed, more like grunted under his breath. “I know you and Louis have been the best of friends in One D and you were partners in crime but I swear upon it, Zayn if I see Louis right now I’m going to rip out his throat.”

Zayn looked alarmed. “He didn’t do it.”

“He knew who Mr Berliner was and he knew what Simon was doing signing you onto RCA. I have a feeling that Mr Berliner would not have done shit or even if you signed onto RCA without Simon’s help, you could’ve told him no and Mr Berliner wouldn’t have done shit to stop you from walking away.”

Zayn ran his hand through his silky hair. “Possibly, or not. Everyone acted like it was normal and nothing I said even made anyone blink so I went with the flow.”

“Nobody’s meant to touch you without your consent,” Niall growled startling Zayn from his position on the bed. “No one, do you hear me?”

Zayn nodded.

“Good.”

Zayn exhaled, his hands palming down his jawline. “This is not how I thought this afternoon was going to go.”

“Shit happens.”

Zayn laughed. “I told you loving me was complicated.”

Niall cupped his face and pulled him to his lips. “I adore you so much, Snookums.”

Zayn beamed at him. “So, um, I wanted to ask you, before the— _this_ whole thing happened if you would like to join me for dinner.” Zayn sat up straighter on the bed, squaring his shoulders. “Actually no. I’m taking you for dinner at seven-thirty.”

“Where are we going?” asked Niall, his stomach doing cartwheels.

“You’ll see.”

At 9 o’clock (because Zayn was perpetually late), Zayn took his boyfriend to a classy French restaurant, Pêche A La Vache. With the breaking news of RCA Records and the sexual harassments claims, there were a lot of paparazzi and fans outside their hotel, they had to swim their way through the large crowd, with Zayn (and their bodyguards) guiding his claustrophobic boyfriend through the throngs of flashing lights and arms and screams _and madness_ , all wanting to get a glimpse of the couple.

“Réservation pour Malik,” said Zayn in perfect French to the waitress by the door. She looked down her list and looked up at the both of them, a plastic smile on her face.

“Suivez-moi, Messieurs,” she said in her strong French accent.

“You sound hot in French!” whispered Niall into his ear.

Zayn winked in reply. The lady guided them to their table, near the decorated wall of potted plants. Zayn pulled the chair out for Niall, who pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before sitting down, the waitress watching with a genuine smile on her lips.

They were handed the menus, a waiter coming forth moments later to take their drinks – a bottle of their _best_ wine – and later for their orders.

“I’m not much of a wine fan.”

“I remember you saying so on our first date.”

“But with a place like this, I don’t think ordering Guinness or tequila will be acceptable,” chuckled Niall.

“Or worse, soda.”

The waiter returned with their food, Niall sighing in relief because wine was not filling, at all, and the Starter was small that he felt as if he had been eating air. He watched with hearts in his eyes as Zayn filled his wine glass, then for himself.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Maybe,” he said, playful. 

“So far we’ve not been lucky with dates,” noted Niall. “We talk about the oddest of things ranging from murder to sad news on TV.”

“With good reason.”

“So I propose for this date – I mean, we are in a stunning place, Snookums – let’s talk about happy things.”

“Like Maura’s wedding!” Zayn said. “Chris texted me saying that his sister called agreeing to finally come for the wedding.”

“Yeah, he told me. Ma was beside herself at the news,” said Niall, chewing on his beef. “Now at least Chris will have someone who is family at the wedding.”

“Didn’t he have anyone?”

“His friends but not family family. He hasn’t spoken to his siblings in decades, his parents died in the 90s,” explained Niall. “We went with him, along with El and Theo, to Cape Town to convince his sister to come for the wedding but she had said no, accusing him of leaving his family behind for his life in Europe.”

“Harsh.”

“Not really because that is what he did and Chris is unapologetic about it.”

Zayn nodded. He took a sip of his wine. “Is Bobby coming too?”

“Of course! Ma wouldn’t have a wedding without him. He’s going to walk her down the aisle.”

Zayn frowned. “Is that… normal? In Christian weddings, I mean?”

Niall shook his head, a smile ghosting his lips. “Not in the slightest. My Ma just wants Bobby there. It’s sort of weird, like, they’re closer now than they were before when married.”

“Better as friends?”

“Yeah, something of the sorts. She also says thank you for designing her gown.”

Zayn beamed on the spot. “Thank you, Habibi. She sent me a basket of chocolates as a thank you.”

“Please don’t tell me you finished the chocolates?” asked Niall despite knowing the answer. When Zayn stuffed his mouth with a forkful of yummy food, he rolled his eyes. “One day you will have no teeth when you’re 28.”

“Easier to suck dick.” Zayn winked. Niall busied himself with wine, gulping a large amount with his eyes closed. He heard echoes of laughter and drank even more. “Though you have a kink for teeth.”

“Makes it fun,” mumbled Niall. “Can we change the subject?”

“Now you know how I feel when we have Sex Talks.”

“That’s for us to have a healthy sex life! Like the shower sex talk.”

During the (mortifying) sexual talks that Niall insisted on having for the benefit of their relationship, they came to an agreement that shower sex was off the table. Niall argued that it was not as hot as it looked in the movies; it was slippery, one got tired very fast, the bathing area was never big enough and most of all, barely any sex took place. Zayn chipped in adding most of all, he never got to wash his hair properly.

They did agree that they can shower together, if anyone of them got turned on (Zayn more times than Niall)(not his fault because Niall would bite him on his shoulder, between his thighs, lap at hard nipple in the pretence of washing him, his fingers lingering over his thick cock), they would get off _after_ the shower but never quite making it outside the bathroom.

Secretly, when Niall was not teasing him too much, he enjoyed being washed by Zayn. He was delicate with him, scrubbing his back (much better now that he does not have to painfully stretch to scrub the middle of his back), his chest, even allowing Niall to use his own hair shampoo that he swore made his hair as silky as Zayn’s. Often times, Niall would kiss him directly under the shower head, pretending they are kissing under the rain, and while Zayn would complain it was cheesy as fuck, he kissed back just as passionately as Niall.

Zayn rolled his eyes hard. “More like my dick will fall off. I swear when I’m 28, you’ll have one of the weirdest boyfriends on earth – no teeth or cock.”

Something flattered inside of Niall. 28? Zayn imagined the both of them still dating four years down the line and it was making him melt into his seat. His reverie was cut short when the waiter came to take their plates, take their orders for dessert and within minutes they each had their plates of desert – Zayn going with the Chef’s special (some sort of Austrian cake Niall did not catch the name of) and Niall going with the classic dessert of ice-cream.

“Hey,” Zayn said, sounding shy, avoiding Niall’s gaze, “you know when you said that we should try every restaurant in London and I proposed we open our own when we’ve ticked off all the restaurants?” Niall nodded at him, mouth around his spoon. “Were… were you,” he gazed at Niall, “serious?”

“Do you want to?”

“I’m asking _you_.”

“You want to start a business with me?” he wondered aloud.

“Yes,” he responded and Niall gaped at him which had Zayn mumbling, “Nevermind. Sorry. Don’t worry about it. It was nothing. Change of topics. Do you like the colour purple?”

“No,” Niall reached across and took Zayn’s hand that he was using to eat his cake, “I mean yes, I do like the colour but. No. I didn’t mean it like—I’m just shocked you’d want to do something so grand with me.”

“Of course I would, Habibi. I’d want to do anything with you.”

“If you want to open a restaurant together when we’re done with all the restaurants in London, then I’m all in.”

Zayn gazed at him before speaking. “Really? You don’t have to. It was a stupid idea. Forget about it. How’s your ice-cr—”

Niall squeezed his hand stopping him from babbling. “I do. Did you have any in mind?”

Zayn was a deer caught in the headlights. “I.” He looked down at his almost empty plate of delicious Austrian cake. “I didn’t think you’d agree so I didn’t think _this_ far.”

“You thought I’d say no?”

“Not exactly…” he told Niall, gesturing vaguely with his left hand. “Nor would you say yes.”

“Well, I’m saying yes.” Niall reached into the air to take Zayn’s left hand which had not stopped gesturing and laid both of their hands on the table beside his wine glass. “I’d want us to be in London.”

“Of course London! Why would we be anywhere else?”

Niall shrugged. “In case you wanted L.A. or New York or Belize or—”

“Stop.” Zayn squeezed Niall’s hand. “I want London, too. Patriotism and all that shit?”

The grin Niall gave Zayn was blinding. “You’re staying?”

“I’m staying. Wallahi,” he confirmed. “So, what sort of restaurant business?”

As money was not an issue, the rest of their desert (Zayn ordered more cake while Niall stated he was full)(Zayn staring gobsmack at Niall for years at the disbelief that he was, gasp, full) was spent in making dreams about the location, location, location, the type of restaurant they wanted (they agreed on pastries), playing with names of the pastry business (“Our customers will not be hipsters!” Zayn protested when Niall suggested Starbucks be their inspiration) and the night ending with kisses and promises of coming back to their dream pastry business.

The night was still young – it was minutes past 11 o’clock – and Zayn said they would be heading somewhere. Where? He did not answer Niall’s questions of where they were heading but the glowing and shimmering lights of the Eiffel Tower gave him an idea. The chauffeur dropped them on the street to which Zayn promised to call him when they were ready to head back to the hotel, and hand in hand they made their way to the Eiffel Tower.

 “I thought you hated clichés?” he asked, teasing.

Before him, there was a black blanket laid out on the grass, Zayn taking off his Chelsea boots to sit on the blanket. To the right corner of the blanket was a closed blue basket and near the basket were… were those sunflowers? Everything was illuminated in the nightlife, the shimmering glitz of the Eiffel Tower and the bright, full moon shining brightly down on them.

“Picnic under the Eiffel tower is hardly cliché.”

Niall laughed, toeing off his sneakers and sitting close to his boyfriend on the red and black blanket. “It is a hundred percent, you can’t deny it.” He leaned forward, kissing below Zayn’s earlobe. “I love it.”

Zayn busied himself by emptying the blue basket, not wanting Niall to see the blush on his cheeks. “Since none of us is fans of champagne – which is a true tragedy – I got us Sprite.” He gave Niall a can of Sprite. “It’s the closest thing to champagne.”

Drinking Sprite under the Eiffel Tower was not the most of romantic moments, none of them happening in any romcom Niall had watched, but for him it was perfect. Some things were not meant for movie screens, anyway.

“I love it.” He clinked their cans together and taking a sip. “I’m having an amazing time, by the way.”

Zayn looked at him intently, as if measuring his words before smiling shyly. “I’m glad.”

Silence befell them, drinking from their Sprite cans and watching the Eiffel Tower blink before them. Niall found himself getting lost in the lights, in the warmth of Zayn on his shoulder, the hand on his thigh drawing nonsensical patterns on his khaki pants.

“I heard _Perfect_ on TV today.”

Niall blinked at Zayn. “Really?”

Zayn nodded as he squeezed Niall’s thigh.

The premiere of Niall’s most-awaited single was released yesterday. Niall had been receiving updates from Elena about his single, its reception and how it was doing on the charts. In 24 hours, the lyrical video garnered a whopping 105 million views, a broken record on Vevo since _Gangnam Style_.

The said lyric video had two boys, one from the European continent and the other from the Asian continent meeting, holding hands as they fell in love with the world they travelled, with each other, doing what they loved which was singing. Towards the bridge, the two boys were separated, the Asian boy walking back to his continent while the European boy faded. As the music continued playing, a guitar strummed, after the bridge, Ed Sheeran’s divine voice sang the ending, the world span and the two boys found each other on the American continent and as they looked up at the sky, it was filled with burning candles to which the song faded with them kissing each other heartedly.

The fans adored the video, the lyrics, constantly retweeting lines from the beautiful song, some of their favourite _I will not give you up this time_ , and _He shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share his home_ and the chorus? The heart-eyes CHORUS?!? Was there a song that could kill and revive you at the same time? And all the cuteness at Niall writing this for Zayn? The fans were on a new level of Hell… and Heaven!

Directioners, all together, including Eleanor and the boys, tweeted the lyric: _Darling, you look perfect tonight_ to Zayn because honestly, Zayn always and 100 percent looked perfect. Stunning. Gorgeous. Out of this world but they loved Niall’s word choice of _Perfect_.

“I can’t believe you wrote about us dancing in the dark. That was—that was perfect,” Zayn whispered, almost afraid that if he said it louder Niall would hear his loud thumping heart and his shaky hand on his thigh.

“Do you want to dance with me?”

Zayn snapped his head from Niall’s shoulder, his mouth gaped. “Here? Now?” Niall nodded sheepishly. “Yes,” he told him, all smiles. They got up, their socked feet on the blanket, and Zayn placing their Sprite cans near the basket. He got out his phone, and earphones, as he unlocked his phone and headed for his playlist.

Niall looked on at him, chewing on his bottom lip and trying not to self-combust on the spot. His boyfriend was fucking gorgeous and he was dating him and sometimes Niall never did quite believe it.

 _Zayn_ , his mind screamed, countlessly, repeating his name on a loop.

Zayn whose face was illuminated under the lights, who was wearing a peacock-pattern shirt, unbuttoned at the collar to see his Capricorn tattoo. Zayn who had his tongue piercing re-done because Niall loved it on him, who had the rainbow flag tattooed below his elbow and on each colour, an important date between them (such as their anniversary or when they met in the candle shop), who had the Slytherin and Ravenclaw crests tattooed on his right hip bone.

ZAYN.

“I love you more and more every day,” he breathed. Zayn looked up from his phone, licking his lips, he mouthed, _I’m in love with you_ back to him. He then handed Niall an earphone piece and the stuck it inside his ear, Zayn doing the same.

Niall heard himself start, _I found a love for me_ , with his hands moving to circle around Zayn’s middle, not underneath his shirt, no, they were in public for crying out loud (but oh, did he want to touch his skin). Zayn circled his hands on Niall’s neck, one hand hanging off his back the other slipping underneath Niall’s faded yellow button-up.

  
_Baby, I'm dancing in the dark_  
_With you between my arms_  
_Barefoot on the grass_  
_Listening to our favourite song_  
  
_When you said you looked a mess_  
_I whispered underneath my breath_  
_But you heard it,_  
_Darling, you look perfect tonight_

And Ed Sheeran sang through the chorus, the music playing around them even if it was only between them, it felt the world was playing for them, their symphony, finally letting them breath, to catch their breaths from all the huffing and puffing they both have been doing since the start of this year. The last line, contrary to what the fans and everyone else thought, was not what Niall said to Zayn but the other way round.

It was hard enough dating someone who looked pristine for every occasion, dressing to the nines, and generally being disturbingly hot twenty-four-seven, but Niall was fine, totally fine with it. Sort of. Some magazines had commented on his lack of fashion as compared to Zayn and therefore he had, without meaning to, started to obsess over what to wear, how to wear it, all the while Zayn watching in secret until one day he pulled a glossy magazine from Niall’s tight clutch and threw it behind him.

Niall scoffed, stating he paid good money for it and wanted to sign up for a free ticket to Dubai this December. Zayn, squatting before Niall, calmly cupped his face and tipped his head down and they locked eyes. In firm words, he asked him what was it that really bothered him and who was Niall to deny? Not when he was gazing at him earnestly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his eyelashes fanning his cheeks whenever he blinked… he was cornered.

He blurted that Gigi was fashionable, so was Perrie, so were _all_ his friends. They were all cool and sick and they owned fashion houses, they were whos-who in the industry, and even bloody Jawaad and Hadiyya dressed incredibly better than him. Plus he looked like a mess of sack potatoes.

“I love potatoes,” Zayn had said and Niall sent him a flat look. “Habibi, you always look perfect to me. Always. I love that your style is simple. So many people put too much effort into how they look and they look terrible but you never do. You’re a minimalist and you inspire me to dress less because after all, less is more, that’s fashion tip numero uno.”

“Sure?” He sounded completely unsure.

“I think you look perfect, why does that not matter to you?” He had sounded hurt and it made Niall feel like a total knob head.

And it was then that Niall had realised he cared about everyone’s opinion at the same time never hearing Zayn’s compliments on how he looked good, even if he liked wearing fuchsia shorts, he managed to make them work for him. He apologized to his boyfriend, then, dawning on him that it did not matter what anyone thought of his dressing. He dressed for himself. And if he dressed a whole lot better for Zayn then yes, that too, because that was what mattered.

 

 _We are still kids but we're so in love_  
_Fighting against all odds_  
_I know we'll be alright this time_

Niall closed his eyes, laying his forehead on his warm chest, his hands tightening around him. Tonight was about this. About them, about their future, about their Home, about who they were together, about the promises they were making with each other but above all, loving each other. They had a lot stacked against them, their family and friends and career, the world, but at the end of the night, they would be each other’s light.

 _Darling, just hold my hand_  
_Be my man, I'll be yours too_  
_I see my future in your eyes_

 

He whispered the words to Zayn’s ear, his lips brushing on the shell of his ear and piercing, as a promise to their future, to them. The entire song was a promise in itself, all the words Niall could not muster to say them properly, were in the song, all thanks to a magician called Ed Sheeran (and great instrumentals).

 

 _I have faith in what I see_  
_Now, I know I have met an angel in person_  
_And he looks perfect_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wellll heavy & looong chapter! lots of resolved and unresolved issues [;  
> i tried to make it long to compensate for my radio silence /= but life is getting in the way & im struggling to update this story but DOING ME BEST, promise !  
> KUDOS + COMMENTS are HIGHLY appreciated, tell me your angry, happy, negative, positive thoughts on this chapter and any highlights, too [;
> 
> also, rest in peace, and love, to the amazing avicii ♥
> 
> take care sons !! ♦


	36. Amigos Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam bundles the boys down to Southampton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this is as long as the wait,  
> enJOY ♦

 

> **_Keep smiling, keep shining_ **  
>  **_Knowing you can always count on me, for sure_ **  
>  **_Whoa, good times and the bad times_ **  
>  **_Cause I tell you, that's what friends are for_ **  
>  **_~ Donnie Warwick_ **

 

Liam was a genius. Actually, he had always been a genius but today he thought he was a _super_ genius. After all, he was the Daddy of the group.

His master plan was to get his four brothers back together and the only way to do that was to have them all together in one place. His teammates at Chelsea all agreed it was risky, reckless and damn near impossible but they were his closest of friends and they helped in in his, dubbed, Mission Impossible (‘Mission Get One D Back Together’ was too long of a name). Liam had preferred Batman Mission at first but they all gave him flat looks for it.

First was convincing whoever needed convincing that his four brothers needed a break from their work. The first was Harry who was in France filming for _Beauty and the Beast_ and because he was the main character, Beast, it was a hard convincing to the Director that Harry needed a break from filming and yes, it would only take several days, and yes, he was willing to pay for any damages that Harry would incur with his loss. He and his friends at Chelsea celebrated when Harry was given lee-way but Liam asked him to not tell Harry yet, just to send him home and he would take care of the rest.

The second was Niall. Niall’s was a little harder to convince because 1) he had been in Paris recently and 2) he just released a banging single with Ed Sheeran and was due for promo across Europe and US the following week. He was talking to Elena and she was a tough lady, to say the least. It worked like a charm, however, with a promise with a date with Diego Costa. Zayn was easier to convince, thankfully, because he had just signed with Jay-Z’s record label and his single with Taylor Swift was to drop the following week so technically Zayn was free … until he found out that he was designing for a clothing collection for Versace and his designs were required soon and how long would this trip take? Several days, he promised.

Louis was probably the easiest. He simply called him asking to go on a lad’s trip. _Hell yeah Li_ , he cheered on the phone. _Where do you have in mind, bro?_

Now that everyone was coming through, he made several other adjustments such as calling his old bodyguard to make arrangements of managing to get Bus 1 for their transport to the South of England. Unfortunately, the Bus 1 was being used by another band, Pretty Something (did not quite catch the name), so Liam was stuck with a van, a cool van his old bodyguard insisted. He thought it was better because then they would be closer together (he figured in Bus 1, some could be in the bunk bed, the back of the bus, at the front with the driver but with the van, there was nowhere to hide, so to speak).

See, he had wanted all of them to fly to an exotic destination but Louis was banned from leaving the country – thank you, Nialler – and therefore he had to find some place that was suitable enough. North of the country was crossed out seeing as most of them were from the North, London was obviously out and all that was left was, well, the beach. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of October and the weather was not beach-friendly.

Mind over matter.

Standing in this lone parking lot, watching his Louis say goodbye to his son, Freddie, he thought he had done well with his master plan. However, as soon as Louis and Niall locked eyes and sneered then turned to Liam with angry daggers and words, he knew he would need a better plan than just stuffing everyone in a cottage (and a small van) to repair their differences. And friendship.

“I hope for your sake this works,” his bodyguard whispered, standing by him in the parking lot. “This could either end in severing the ties you’ve built or strengthened your bond for life.”

“It’s a 50-50 chance,” Liam said, “but that’s something I’m willing to risk.”

Louis was squatting before his son, Harry and Zayn laughing with Freddie at a dumb story he was recalling that happened. Niall was there, too, but he was standing at a distance, staring, squinting at the four of them with a scowl on his mouth.

“You stare harder and Louis will burn into flames like a vampire.”

Niall blinked and a smirk grew on his face. “That’s not a terrifying idea, Briana.”

She giggled beside him. “He’s adorable, innit?”

“Zayn is,” he said, firm, knowing full well she was talking about her son. “It’s all for show, just like everything. He’s trying to make me feel guilty for banning him from leaving the country.”

Briana tore her eyes away from them and faced Niall. “Is it working?”

Niall shrugged, scowling harder.

“Thank you for helping me with my family,” said Briana. Niall was absently watching Zayn hold his stomach as laughter seeped out of his body. “I never did thank you properly. But all this fighting for my son I realized that I didn’t want Freddie to grow up without a father.”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Harry told me about Zayn’s father abandoning him,” she explained and he nodded, biting down on his lip. “I don’t want Freddie to grow up without knowing his father, even if that person is Louis.”

“You would’ve won full custody what with Liam’s party shenanigans happening.”

“And now the sexual harassment claims tagging Louis in on it,” added Briana, “I know, but Freddie loves Louis and Louis loves Freddie. Because that’s what matters, right?”

Niall frowned and frowned deeply at her retreating back. Freddie turned and looked up at her approaching mother, his cackles louder, echoing off the parking lot. He was watching keenly he did not see Zayn walking up to him until he wrapped an arm around his waist that he jilted on the spot.

“Don’t sneak up on people!”

“You were in on your head, Habibi. Why are you standing so far from everyone?”

Niall pointed to the vending machine to his left. “Buying snacks for the trip. It’s going to be 5 hours stuck with that cunt, I need to busy my hands with food or I might punch the daylights out of him.”

Zayn softly sighed. And Niall rolled his eyes, finally looking away from the family and pressing number 62 on the machine. He knew that sigh, knew it very well that he dubbed it the Are-We-Still-On-About-Louis? sigh.

“How’s Freddie?” he asked, taking the Twix bar from the machine.

“You could go over and say hello.”

“Don’t like kids,” he mumbled.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “You adore Theo. And kids in general, actually. Why not Freddie?”

“Twix?”

Zayn paused, eyebrow lifted at the offer but he complied. He opened his mouth, tongue over his bottom lip as he took a bite of the chocolate bar. He locked eyes with Niall who was staring at pink lips wrapping around his Twix, more of it disappearing into Zayn’s mouth before it was chopped off.

“You ate all of it,” Niall protested, weakly. He winked at him as he chewed the Twix bar.

“Is it because Freddie is Louis’ kid?”

“He’s so transparent it hurts. If he thinks bringing his son over here to have this huge goodbye moment with him or having Briana come over and talk about how family is family and Louis loves Freddie so much bullshit will convince me to _un_ ban him from leaving the country, he’s mistaken.”

“What did Briana say?”

Niall resolutely looked down at Zayn’s black boots. “She knew about Yaser and said she didn’t want the same for her son.”

“Do you think maybe there is no game and this is Louis in his… natural element?”

“You mean sneaky?” Niall retorted and took an angry bite of Twix. “Then yes, I do think he is in his natural element.”

“He’s trying, you know,” said Zayn. “He’s trying to be nice.”

“Stellar job so far. He’s gotten you into a media frenzy, into the hospital, almost killed, bankrupt, and so much shit that honestly it’s a miracle you’re standing before me.”

Zayn beamed beside him.

“How did you ever forgive Louis for what he’s done to you? All he has done?”

“He’s my friend, innit?” Zayn’s gaze shifted from Niall to where the van was parked. He scratched on his stubble as he said, “Friends forgive friends and forgiveness is.” Zayn gazed back to his boyfriend. “You realize that when you forgive someone, it’s not the other person who was in a prison but yourself; you locked yourself with resentment and anger but when you forgive, you feel free.”

“So that’s it? You just forgave Louis?” he asked, incredulously.

“I did. Just like how you forgave me for leaving the band,” said Zayn. He leaned forward and kissed Niall’s pink lips, lingering and soft. “Or did you forget how?”

The question played over and over in his head, from the moment Liam announced they were leaving, to packing their luggage in the (somewhat) big van to stopping for snacks because Harry forgot to buy some for the road to (finally) heading to the down to the south of the country, down to Southampton.

Sat in the front was their old driver along with Liam’s bodyguard riding shotgun. Behind them sat Harry and Niall who had the freedom of stretching their legs forward which Harry did with his long legs and a laptop placed on his lap watching a movie. Niall would have loved to continue watching _Sherlock_ but he forgot to charge his laptop. Shit. Louis, Liam and Zayn were sat facing the duo, laughing loudly and chatting with gusto over their times riding in Bus 1 during the TMH tour.

Niall had his earbuds plugged in, playing Blue Neighbourhood and, knees bent with _Order of the Phoenix_ perched on his thighs, the world outside his window falling behind. He could neither read properly because of Louis barking laughter nor hear Troye’s delicious vocals in _BITE_ because Louis decided to recount every fucking detail of how he poured water down Liam’s shirt as if neither of them was there on that night. He briefly turned to his left finding Harry’s brows scrunched, tongue poking slightly from his lips with the utmost concentration on his laptop. Vaguely, he wondered what he was watching.

Nevermind him, Niall was happily Troye’s best song on the album, _BITE_ , to pay attention to Harry or Louis laughing loudly like a cow about that one water prank he played on Liam with Zayn. Nobody cares, he wanted to scream. Instead, he closed his book and his eyes, his mind wavering to two weeks ago at his Ma’s wedding.

It was the first week of October when his Ma was saying her vows. As she walked down the flooded white petal aisle, her hand cupping Bobby’s arm, her exquisite one-of-a-kind ballroom wedding gown, his heart swelled inside him. He was standing to Greg’s right in a stunning navy blue suit with a polka dot bowtie (“I feel like Mickey Mouse!” “You look stunning in it, Habibi.”) and on the other side of Greg was Anne Styles, his Ma’s Maid-of-Honour.

Chris walked down the three steps to welcome his soon-to-be-wife and all heart eyes and glees. Chris shook Bobby’s hand before taking Maura’s hand and walking up the stairs to begin their vows.

Niall patted himself on the back for not being a bawling mess during the exchanging of vows, when his Ma said the two defining magical words of _I do_ , when she kissed her husband nor when she walked down the aisle, happily dancing with her new man. If Niall was being honest, he did tear up when she was heading towards the exit of the cathedral because it felt as if she was not just exiting the church but sending her off to her new life with Chris for a new adventure. It felt like a goodbye of sorts.

“She’s really gone, isn’t she?” Niall had asked, burying his head behind Zayn’s back to hide the fact that he was now truly crying.

“She’s happy,” Zayn said, looking toward the entrance of the church where Maura, Eleanor and Anne were cackling with the sun shining down on the joyfully. Zayn turned on the spot, wrapping his arms around Niall’s shaking shoulders. “Only happy tears, isn’t that what you said?”

“Technically I said the first one to cry buys the other tickets to Disney World but… I guess I said that too.”

“So no more crying… well, until we get to the reception,” he said, amending his thoughts when Niall pulled away from him with his eyes brimming. He cupped his boyfriend’s pink cheeks, his thumbs wiping underneath his wet eyelashes.

“Easy for you to say, I always cry at weddings,” whined Niall. “I don’t know why, I mean it’s nothing—but it’s emotional when it’s someone you know. Someone—”

“Like your parents.”

Niall nodded, half-sobbing again.

“If you remember that she’s happy, that’s all that matters.” Zayn tightly hugged Niall. “And she’s not gone just because she’s married, she’ll always be your mother, no matter who she marries.”

Eleanor did an exquisite décor job at the reception at The Dorchester Hotel. The ballroom was packed, half the guests having flown all the way from Westmeath County, not forgetting Chris’ sister from South Africa who had changed her mind and decided to witness her brother getting married for the second time.

Niall danced with the entire wedding or that was how he felt. He danced in a circle with Dio, Bressie, Eóghan and Willie, then with Harry that was more of a movement of bodies having them stumbled on the floor and the rolled like burritos, knocking their body parts on people’s shoes. He slow danced with Gemma to Elvis Presley and conveniently, Harry dragged his half-drunken boyfriend to the dancefloor, the entire time sending glares to them both (and if Harry, pinched Niall’s arm because of the kissy kissy faces he was making behind Gemma’s shoulders, well, it was all worth it). By the time he danced with his 14th cousin, his third Aunt, his never-met-before Uncle or his many, many ‘relatives’ (he honestly thought they were just Ma’s friends claiming to be related to him), he made his way to the bar, the first sip of Guinness down his throat a calming effect to his hot, hot blood.

“The Horans know how to throw a wedding.”

Niall smirked at Liam and winked. “Of course. We do things the classy way.”

“How’re you holding up?” asked Liam, joining him at the wedding bar. He indicated at the bartender for a beer then sat with his back to the bar facing the wedding party laugh, dance, love and drink.

Niall drank his Guinness. “What do you mean?”

Liam smiled knowingly from the corner of his eyes, Niall was determinedly not looking at him, busy looking at the party. He followed his gaze, landing on Zayn and Maura joyfully dancing together or perhaps Niall was looking at Harry somehow managing to dance with all three of Louis’ sisters or at Chris and his sister sharing a plate of cake.

“When Ruth got married, my mom cried her eyes out and my dad had this face where he was trying not to cry but his eyes were watery and his mouth would on occasion wobble. He gave in when he danced with her; had tears rolling down his cheeks and it was one of the few times I’ve seen my dad cry.” He turned to Niall. “I get it.”

“Get what?”

Liam thanked the bartender for his beer before speaking. “It’s alright to worry about Maura, if she’s happy? Will she be safe? That she’s leaving but not really…”

“Chris is better than Bobby.”

Liam was about to respond but Louis had walked up to them, face flowing with sweat, and his shirt folded up to his elbows. “I think Harry’s trying to outdance everyone at the party.”

“Has he met Bressie? That fella dances like he’s on _Step Up_ or something.”

“He hasn’t once sat down – apart from the cake cutting,” laughed Louis. Niall drank his beer, eyes falling on Zayn slow dancing with his Ma. “Since then he’s not sat down.”

“Thank you for coming to the wedding,” said Niall, surprising not only himself but both Liam and Louis. “Means a lot to Ma.”

Louis looked to Liam then to Niall before responding. “Sure. Lottie… is grateful.”

Liam snorted into his beer. “Really, Tommo? _Lottie?_ ”

“Laters, Payno,” Niall said, hopping off the bar stool, unable to remain calm in the presence of Louis without anger boiling his blood, and heading for a table that no one on it. But before he sat, he went to the cake, cut himself a generous piece (yes to red velvet!) and went back to the empty circular table number 18.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Zayn asked then locked their lips for a moment.

“Too tired. Apparently, Harry has been dancing since the start.”

“He’s like a machine,” chuckled Zayn. He sat opposite Niall, sinking into his chair and stretching his legs forward, locking them around Niall’s. His red hair (red was the last colour on the rainbow that Zayn had not dyed his hair with) flopped messily to his left, the other side clean-shaved, his forehead masking a thin sheath of sweat down to his neck as well and hanging from it was the bullet necklace that he could feel falling on his heartbeat underneath his dress shirt.

He was a marvel, really and sometimes Niall was awed that he was dating him, that Zayn agreed to date him when he cou—

“Are you eating the cake?” he asked, drawing Niall from his thoughts. He had in fact been gazing longingly at Zayn with his thinking.

He slid his plate towards him. Zayn picked Niall’s fork, digging into the yummy red velvet cake.

“Do you ever think about,” Niall paused, his had motioning towards the dancefloor, then to the ceiling filled with hanging white and silver lanterns, then ending with a circular motion, “all this?”

“Weddings?”

“Marriage.” And Niall’s throat dried his eyes refusing to leave Zayn. The fork in his mouth stilled for a moment before he slowly removed it, all its contents in his mouth and speared the cake on the plate. Chewing, Zayn nodded slowly to Niall. “You do?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah.” It was soft and gentle and… this was all new to him. To them.

“When?”

“Remember when we were in Paris on the love bridge, wondering what to write on our locks?” said Zayn and Niall found himself nodding. “While you were asking me if we should write—I don’t remember but something, I’m sure it was cheesy, then this couple in their wedding attire came up and were placing their padlocks on the bridge… then.”

“Then?” said Niall, laughing slowly in disbelief. Niall had been crouching on the ground, his left hand holding a Sharpie, hovering on the padlock with _what_ to write.

“Then,” confirmed Zayn. “It was—such a huge tilt. I honestly wanted to marry you.” He leaned forward on his chair. “What about you?”

“I’d marry you tomorrow if you’d have me.”

Zayn’s eyes flew open, his red stained lips parting. His eyes searched Niall’s, speechless at his confession, and stuttered his name several times. “Do—Are you—You’re serious?”

The corner of Niall’s lips tugged as he scooted to the edge of his seat, their knees bumping and taking Zayn’s left hand between his. He took his time running his thumb on his knuckles, the fingers of left hand scratching up Zayn’s to where his shirt was rolled up several times. The whole time Zayn was holding his breath, gazing at this man he loved honestly, truly, completely was in love with.

“I’m going to marry you one day, Niaz Kilam, if you’ll have me,” said Niall, soft and in whisper meant for just the two of them. “I’d marry you at dinner, if you’d like or at the least cheesy scenario like in a dark alley with smelly bins and empty beer bottles because then you wouldn’t accuse me of being a sappy fuck.”

Zayn chuckled, still in a state of shock and surprise.

“You gave me a love that consumes me, the love that Rose had and yes, love is not like the movies, true, but—”

“A love that plants a fire in our hearts,” whispered Zayn, his eyes falling down the stretch of Niall’s nose to his lips, “and brings peace to our minds.”

“I knew you’d warm up to _The Notebook_.”

Zayn snorted, shaking his head. “Not true.”

Niall rolled his eyes then squeezed Zayn’s left hand. “No matter what, I’m going to spend my whole life loving you, making you happy because I realized no matter who I’m with, where I am, or what I’m doing, I will always truly, madly, and deeply be in love with you.”

Zayn chuckled, watery, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “Sappy prick.”

“I can’t be the only one between us who cries,” said Niall except he was one step ahead of him, his cheeks were wet.

“If it weren’t for all these people, I’d have you right now on this table,” said Zayn. It was meant to come off as sexy and husky and hot but it was filled with chuckles, wobbly voices and him rubbing his eyes of their wetness.

Niall’s cheeks were a deep crimson. “Stop! I can’t be thinking of your cock when Ma is about to go on her honeymoon and I’ll be hugging her.” Niall let go of his hand to fan his face. “Can we please go somewhere else like dance floor… toilet… outside… just anywhere but here because I’m going to start crying – again – and I did that for Ma’s speech even before started.”

It was true. It had been time to say the Speeches, which Anne had started, followed by Bobby and then Maura’s two sons. Niall was second, standing up slowly and cleared his throat onto the microphone. He began with a joke, sending the whole ballroom in joys of laughter that took some of his nervy nerves off his shoulders. However that was not completely true. He had barely began his Speech, starting off with _Choosing the person you want to share your life with is one of the most important decisions any of us makes_ before he stopped, grabbed the napkin and dabbed his eyes. He was in the middle of his Speech when he really could not continue without choking out the words, full on sobbing, his brother Greg not doing better by silently crying on Denise’s shoulder.

All in all, the Horans had teary speeches.

Zayn held out his hand for Niall to take. “They’re playing _Total Eclipse of The Heart_ and despite my best intentions, Harry made me fall in love with Bonnie Tyler.”

Niall took his hand and allowed to be led outside so Zayn could smoke. “He made me fall in love with Kenny Rogers’ Something Inside So Strong album.”

In the middle of his first cig, Zayn blew smoke from his nostrils as his fingers twiddled around the bullet necklace hanging from Niall’s neck. “I’d say yes,” Zayn said, eyes raising to gaze at his boyfriend, “if you ever asked.”

He swore his insides were dancing as it slowly sunk in that Zayn would say yes, yes to him, yes to a life with him, yes to Niall. Yes, infinity times yes.

“Yes?” he breathed the word on Zayn’s open mouth.

“Fuck yes,” and Zayn locked their lips passionately.

 

**~  ~  *  ~  ~**

****

They were three-quarters to their destination but Liam suggested that they stop at some motel for the night (the boys looking out the window at a motel that looked like it had been built in the 1600s) and besides, the driver and his bodyguard were probably tired.

Zayn shook Niall’s shoulder gently, who groaned that he was being woken up, mumbling if they had reached.

“We’re stopping for the night,” he informed him, his thumb idly circling on Niall’s wrist. “We’re heading to a small restaurant a few minutes from the motel for dinner.”

Niall mumbled incoherently in his sleep, uncurling from the seat, plugging off his earphones and getting off the van. Out of the van, Liam’s bodyguard informed them that they will be at the motel with their bags already moved to their room as they headed to the restaurant.

Hands clasped with each other, Niall and Zayn trailed behind the trio a few steps ahead. The street lamps lit the pavement they were walking on and Niall eternally grateful Zayn lent him his coat, yes _coat_. Niall almost could not believe that Zayn had other coats apart from leather jackets.

“Idiot!” Zayn said into the dark, voice soft. He swang their arm between their bodies. “What’s on your mind?”

“This whole meeting thing.”

“It’s a nice gesture from Liam.”

“It’s a calculated gesture,” he countered. “Sure, he called us all here to talk, to amend and be friends like before – which I wholly believe we can – but I feel like it’s—”

“Ill-omened?” supplied Zayn. Niall halted, turning to properly look at him. Zayn shrugged as he said, “It’s just feels so.”

Niall pursed his lips and they resumed walking. “I was going to say gloomy but ill-omened sounds intelligent.”

“You’re plenty intelligent,” encouraged Zayn, squeezing his hand.

“You’re more—and don’t argue with me on it,” he added before Zayn protested. He looked forward at the backs of the trio. “At the start of the year, we were on one side with you on the other. I wanted to be your friend and when I did, I was on the same side with you. And now, we’re all on the fence.”

“We’re all on the same side.”

They stopped at the entrance of the small restaurant in the middle of nowhere. To their far right was a petrol station, a Ford truck rolling in, several Peugeots parked (Niall wondering if people down here had a thing for old cars) and over his shoulder, through the translucent window, he could make out the bodies of his band mates inside.

“I love you Habibi, always,” said Zayn, his hands cupping Niall’s pink cheeks. His thumb idly ran on Niall’s cheekbones, his eyes watching Niall’s face which leaned forward and locked their lips for a moment. “Forgiveness is a tough thing, very. But goodbyes are worse.”

Niall pulled back a little surprised at him being cryptic. “What do you mean?”

Zayn looked at him, holding his gaze before he kissed him stating the others were waiting for them. Just as they sat down – Zayn sat between Louis and Niall who was sat opposite Harry and to his right Liam – the waitress came forward. They all ordered for fish and chips – Niall opting for chicken – with rounds of beer and milkshakes.

They five of them fell into a lull of conversation, talking about their first tour (“Feels like a lifetime ago!” Harry exclaimed), how thrilling it had been to be able to _sing_ in front of people, to promote their first single _What Makes You Beautiful_ and probably in what seemed like _eternities_ , Niall was the silent one in the conversation.

Niall’s Ma often said there was not a word that Niall did not like effectively making him a chatterbox, if only she could see her Chicken right now, listening to the chatter of the boys as he sipped his milkshake through a straw silently, she would not believe her eyes. Perhaps he was tired, perhaps it was Louis sitting near Zayn or it was the stale milkshake but he was not up for talking. He slid down the cushioned booth, his hand reached under the table and settling on Zayn’s thigh.

Whatever Liam’s plan was it was for the five of them to get along, to be brothers like they were before, Liam was doing what he had started in the beginning of the year: to get his four brothers to be… brothers like the good ol’ days. Somewhere along the year the lines got blurred, he broke the Code he had made with Harry, Liam and Louis, he fell in love with Zayn, Harry, Liam and Louis confessed to acts they committed against Zayn all because they were angry at him for leaving and for Niall the final straw was the events of Harvey Berliner.

It was the fact that Louis knew. He _knew_ what was happening to Zayn, he was aware of Mr Berliner was capable and did nothing.

Their food was brought forth, with another round of milkshake for Niall, and they dug in.

“I think I’m going to stick to acting,” said Harry, squirting a large dollop of ketchup to the side of his plate.  

“Like how Liam stuck to football?” questioned Zayn.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Singing will always be my thing, my first love, but it’s time to do something new.”

“It’s a little refreshing, doing something different?” Louis said and they nodded.

“We never got to thank you, Zayn,” said Harry and Zayn looked up, mid-chew. “If you hadn’t quit the band last year, we would still be in One D singing. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing but we’re… doing much better if I do say so myself.”

“I would have never been in Chelsea.”

“I’m sorry it had to take me quitting the band to realize all this.”

“Well, thank you because I don’t think I – either of us, really – have ever said it.”

Niall ripped his chicken breast in half, steam blowing into the air briefly as he licked the stray crispy crumbs off his thumb.

“But we’re thinking it.” Harry and Louis shared a smile. “And you wouldn’t have released a kickass album.”

“Any plans for Christmas lads?” asked Louis after silence stretched before them, the sounds that of Niall ripping his chicken into half.

“Christmas? What about Halloween?”

Louis rolled his eyes at Liam. “Halloween is overrated!”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too, Leeroy,” said Harry, sheepishly smiling at Liam knowing it got to him when he used that nickname.

“I’ll be in London for Christmas because the following day we have a match against Man U,” Liam said. “But for some reason I’ll be a third wheel as I tag along with Eleanor and Black Thor.”

“El duped you into going for the Green thing?” Niall asked, speaking up for the first time.

“Yeah and it’s because I lost in Poker.” He turned to Zayn, pointing a fry accusingly at him. “You didn’t teach me gambling properly.”

“You suck at it, just as much as Niall.”

“You’re exceptionally good,” Niall whined as Liam vehemently said, “I am not as bad as him!”

“I want to learn to play,” Harry said, pouting from across the table. “Will you teach me Zaynie?”

“Sure. We’ll have time when we reach,” he breezily agreed. Niall sipped the last of his milkshake.

“Will you two be spending time together at Christmas?” Liam asked Harry and Louis. They looked at each other, matching gloomy faces. Louis nodded once and Harry squeezed his shoulder before turning to the rest of them.

“The Doctors said that Jay has at most a month so we’ll be in Doncaster.”

“I’m so sorry, bro,” said Zayn, his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “How bad is it?”

“She doesn’t know anyone anymore and it’s…”

Niall abruptly stood up, excusing himself. Zayn held his hand to which Niall shook his head, mouthing he was headed for the bathroom. He left the table, his plate full of fries with ripped chicken that had not been eaten once.

He took in a large gasp once he was outside, the chilly air hitting his face and for once he was happy about the cold weather of October. He breathed in the air, tightening Zayn’s black bomber jacket around him and… oh heavens! He was hungry. All he could think about now was the plate full of ripped chicken and fries he had left all because he was fuming like a child. He definitely was not going back in so the three milkshakes he drowned would have to keep him going until tomorrow.

He prayed that Zayn had carried chocolates in his suitcase.

He had probably been outside for a while, at least long enough to be surprised at seeing Louis coming out, a lit cigarette between his lips.

“I thought you were in the bathroom.”

“Needed some air,” he answered. He unclenched his fists, reminding himself that Zayn would not like it if he got into a fight with Louis over nothing. The voice in his head screamed, ‘It’s not nothing!’ but the image of Zayn gave him a flat look.

“Do you know why Liam called us all here?” he asked conversationally. He had finished his first cigarette and was lighting his second one.

Niall shrugged. In his periphery Louis was busy flicking his lighter and therefore did not see him shrug. “No. Do you?”

“I think he wants us to all be friends like how we were before Zayn quit.”

“That could’ve happen without us coming all the way out here to Southampton,” Niall complained.

Louis blew smoke from his mouth. “I think when we all sent him the contract stating One D is over with all our signatures apart from his triggered something.”

“So what, this is his last chance at making us friends?”

Louis pushed himself off the wall, walked around on the spot for a bit. “You and I both know we’re only here because you and me cannot work together—”

Niall sneered, “With good reason.”

Louis’ cigarette paused mid-air, him staring at Niall in the dark. They intensely looked on at each for a while and Niall smiled smugly when Louis was the one who looked away first.

“I apologized to Zayn about the Simon and Harvey issue already,” he said, sounding exasperated. “I don’t have to say anything to you.”

“He was sexually harassed and you knew, that’s what makes me angry.”

“And I’m sorry!”

“Like hell you are,” Niall scoffed. He abruptly turned, counting backwards from 10 as he was beginning to see red.

“If we’re playing the blame game,” said Louis, his cigarette dangling from his fingers, “then I blame you for not being able to see my son. You’ve locked me in this country.”

“You’re free to leave.”

“If I leave I get arrested for shit I didn’t even do.”

“You’re responsible, once again,” growled Niall, “for hurting Zayn. If you hadn’t told Alex your sob story about Zayn leaving the band, he wouldn’t have drowned him in the bathtub. At least Perrie had the decency to break up with him.”

It was in the gossip column that Perrie and Alex had ended their short-lived relationship with the reasons behind their break-up vague and non-descriptive. What annoyed Niall was them insinuating that Perrie and Zayn were getting back together.

“I think it’s best if we stay clear of each other,” said Louis when the silence of the night stretched between them.

“Couldn’t agree more!”

Louis looked at him for a moment, cigarette dangling between his lips. He blew smoke from his nostrils his eyes trailing to the petrol station with a truck rolling in. Had Niall been paying attention he would have seen the slight disappointment in Louis’ eyes but he was filled with resentment for him, constantly being reminded that it was his fault that Zayn was hurting, constantly it was his fault that he was on the receiving end of a lot of shit.

Louis threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his heel. “Fine,” he said, sounding neutral and walked away from him heading towards the convenience store at the petrol station.

 

The next day, bright and early as usual for Niall, found him lying in bed, with Zayn’s head on his chest, wide awake with not a bone in his body feeling like moving. It was a first in a long time where he did not want to get out of bed at this early hour. They were spending the night in the motel that Liam found online, the five boys sharing one room, the other room had the driver and Liam’s bodyguard. There were only two beds; Niall and Zayn sharing one, Larry sharing another and it just so happened Liam had a sleeping bag (something Niall had found suspicious then irritated at Louis for airing his exact thoughts by exclaiming, “It’s oddly convenient you have a sleeping bag, Li!”) who slept in between the two beds.

Carefully, without waking up his boyfriend, Niall got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. His thoughts on taking a shower were quickly squashed by the state of the bathroom that surely had seen whiter walls, cleaner tiles, shower curtains that had (most probably) been orange in colour but were now a dirty white and he dared not look behind the shower curtain lest he find something… that died in there.

His net worth was millions and yet he was in a run-down motel, what had his life honestly come to?

He walked out, opting to shower as soon as they arrived at their cottage – somewhere in Southampton by the beach, Liam had been vague about their exact location. He got dressed quickly enough, stealing Zayn’s T-shirt (it was not black, surprise surprise!) and when he was tying his shoelaces, Zayn shifted on the bed, his legs bopping against Niall’s back.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Niall chuckled softly at Zayn squinting against the light in the room. Zayn groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes and lazily moving around in the bed. “Go back to sleep, you’ve still got time.”

Zayn shook his head against the pillow, still rubbing his eyes.

“It’s barely seven,” said Niall, looking at the time on his phone.

Zayn blinked open his eyes, his hair flopping over his eyes and letting out a large yawn. “Why you up so early?”

Niall shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.” He stood up from the bed, having finishing with his shoelaces and then pocketing his phone and wallet.

“Where you going?” he asked him, voice groggy and slow and it was doing something funny to Niall’s cock.

“Just. Out.”

“Chill for me.”

A sleepy Zayn was sluggish in the morning, but very early in the morning he was barely functional. Niall advised him to skip a shower and simply dress, they would shower when they got to the cottage (Zayn’s eyes glowing mischievously at the prospect of showering together at the cottage) and when asked of what he wanted to wear, he did not mind. Probably because Zayn collapsed back onto the pillow, half-way asleep already. Niall picked his clothes for him to wear and the ripped skinny jeans that really got his blood pumping.

Stepping out into the morning air hand in hand, the sky covered in grey clouds, they made their way to the restaurant they had had their dinner for breakfast. It was empty, Niall immensely grateful, and they sat themselves at a corner, huddled close together with their thighs touching and feet threading underneath the table.

“I don’t remember the last time I had a full English breakfast,” hummed Niall once their steaming breakfast was placed on their table, with one coffee and one lemon tea.

“When we go home you should let me make you an English breakfast,” said Zayn, adding sugar to his black coffee.

A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He was so, so lucky to have a boyfriend like Zayn, one who cooked whatever he wanted, whatever he craved, and one that was absolutely always a scrumptious meal. Whenever he would eat Zayn’s cooking, it was as if he were in a restaurant but better.

“Mr Berliner got arrested today,” Niall said, focusing on cutting his sausages into smaller pieces.

“He did?”

Niall nodded, slicing his sausages with precision. “More people came forward accusing him of sexual harassment.”

Not only did more people come forward, and not just from RCA Records but from Hollywood and the fashion industry, but artists that had signed onto Mr Harvey Berliner’s record label were leaving it, with only a dozen of artists left which began with Zayn though not for the reasons that the world thought. The story had twisted so much that it wound up so messed up that nobody really knew the truth, only what everyone wrote. But people did not care much for the truth, just the impact it was having which was raising awareness for sexual harassment in Hollywood; that it was not just about women, but men too.

“He’s going to get what he deserves,” Niall continued because was focusing so much on cutting his sausages.

“I just wish it was all over.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, for lack of something helpful to say. Zayn, pausing his stirring, looked at his boyfriend and cocked his head.

“Why are you sorry?”

“… for the pain. For everything that he—they did.”

“They?”

“For your fucking ex-girlfriend not believing you. And for downplaying what Mr Berliner did. And that cunt of a friend that you have.” The bitterness in Niall’s tone was evident, even bitterer than a shot of espresso. “They’re worse than he was.”

Zayn chose not to comment, instead saying, “Maura called asking if the rumours were true. I told her that yes, I did leave RCA but not…”

Niall gazed at his boyfriend, twisting and turning his red Deadpool ring around and around. “The sexua—”

“Yeah,” Zayn cut him off, “that. I knew my mum had called Maura to ask, meaning that she’s read _everything_ out there and everything out there has been twisted lies and—”

“You can tell her the truth.”

Zayn was already shaking his head before Niall finished his suggestion. “With everything I’ve caused her, my family, I can’t add this onto it.”

“But she would—”

“If the pain I’ve caused on her wasn’t enough, imagining that her sunshine was in the same category as the men and women who’ve come forwarding stating they were sexually abused by Harvey is going to break her.”

Niall’s lips parted. Zayn held his boyfriend’s gaze, his hand idly tightening on his warm coffee cup.

“Imagine if you were in my shoes, if Maura read that her Chicken was sexually abused by his boss just so he could keep doing what he’s always dreamed of and if he didn’t, then he could kiss singing goodbye?”

“Ma would literally skin Mr Berliner alive,” chuckled Niall, earning a soft smile from Zayn. “I understand where you’re coming from but right now, with you not telling Tricia, she’s worrying herself sick, imagining the worst of things that he did do to you.”

“I can’t even talk to my mom because my father is closely monitoring everyone to see who’s keeping in contact with me,” he sighed. He poked at the mushroom on his plate with his fork, Niall’s eyes falling down on the movement, too. “I’ll tell her eventually, just not now; it’ll make everything worse.”

“I’m proud of you,” he said, fiercely. He was facing him now, taking Zayn’s hand (the one not poking at his mushroom) and holding his firm. “You have so much strength in you, always remaining standing after life being a shit at you, putting you through Hell, and there are number of things in life that you can’t come back from, but I think— _I know_ —you will because you’re stronger than yesterday.”

Zayn leaned forward and locked their lips, his eyelashes resting gently on his olive skin. His hands cupped Niall’s pink cheeks, his bottom lip tucked between Niall’s delicious lips. The kiss was languid, soft and they did not care that they were being watched by the staff of the small restaurant. Zayn needed this as of now, in a way both of them needed each other, for guidance, for strength, for themselves.

Zayn broke their kiss, resting his forehead on Niall’s, his breath ghosting on Niall’s full lips. “Mujy tum say mohabbat hai.”

“I love you,” Niall responded brimming with joy in his heart.

Zayn kissed his lips before resuming with consuming his breakfast.

 

**~ ~ * ~ ~**

****

Niall collapsed down on the beach with a long heave. He faced up at the sky, mixed with oranges and reds with hints of lilac and a small smile tugged at his lips. A million and one scenarios crossed his minds, a million and one sickeningly romantic scenes from proposals to heated kisses to sex on the be—

“Lou asked me to be his boyfriend when we were on the beach.”

Niall turned his head on the sand to where Harry had sat beside him. He was tying his hair in a bun, donned in a flowery shirt with skin-tight jeans. Earlier in the day they had made their way to the cottage, finally reaching their well-kept secret destination of Southampton. It was a lovely cottage, not so large in size (Liam did not want something grand as it would defeat the purpose of the trip which was to keep them close), with a room for each couple and one for Liam.

It was not Niall’s cup of tea, he would rarely find himself buying a beach house because the beach was meant to be enjoyed for a short period of time not a place to live – it was one of the reasons he did not understand those who lived along the coast of California (such as Harry) and other coastlines, of course.

“Sounds romantic,” Niall said. He crossed his fingers on the sand and rested his head on them, his eyes focused on the beautiful skyline of Southampton.

In the afternoon, Harry suggested that they go exploring the city, with the other three having a very different definition of exploring consisting of smoking blackberry flavoured weed all afternoon that Louis had packed in a nice plastic bag.

“We never get time to just sit and enjoy,” said Harry, pausing to make a gesture towards the sky, “because we’re always busy. We were always busy in One Direction.” He looked down at Niall with a grin. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Course,” said Niall, looking up at Harry. “I wouldn’t pass up the chance of seeing the sunset.”

“You’re the only one who doesn’t truly mind doing this with me.”

“Liam would.”

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “He’s Liam.”

“Plus it would be romantic if you brought your boyfriend not me. Aren’t boyfriends meant to make you happy?” teased Niall, chuckling under his breath.

“I don’t think so.”

Niall frowned looking at Harry’s side profile. “What do you mean? Why not? Is he allergic to sunsets?”

“He’s not my boyfriend—”

“—What?”

“Any longer,” Harry ended.

Niall sat up, not bothering to dust off the sand in his hair and all over his back. “How is he not your boyfriend? You didn’t break up, did you?”

Harry nodded.

Niall squeezed his arm for a moment. “I’m sorry, Harry. When?”

“’Bout a week ago. We uhh…” Harry looked down between his legs, at the multiple grains of sand that formed part of the large beach. A beat passed between them, Niall looking on worriedly at his best mate, then Harry half-sighed, half-groaned and looked sightlessly before him. “I—We weren’t even doing anything at all.

“We were at the supermarket, Freddie in tow, I was pushing the trolley with him and Louis going on about how he couldn’t leave England to see his son. We stopped at an aisle that had butter, margarine, jams, whathaveyou and he picked the strawberry jam while Freddie kept pointing at the orange marmalade flavour. It was when he gave in and picked the orange marmalade, asking me if it was alright that it happened.”

“What happened?”

“It happened so fast yet so slow at the same time. I looked at him, and he looked back at me and.” His jaw hung for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in front of him before he ducked his head down. “I felt my love for him drain out of me, like how water disappears down the drain and it was...”

Niall nodded, Harry not needing to finish his sentence because he understood. Well, partially. However, it now meant that there was no more Larry.

“We were like matches, burned so bright, so fast and burnt out just as fast. But it was everything else too.”

“Johannah?” Niall guessed.

“Not just her but Freddie and Briana and the travelling and One Direction and our jobs and.” Harry sighed, his face looking exhausted and tired against the orange light illuminating his face. He was meant to glow yet he was dimming out. “Everything was getting in the way that I felt as if I was second in his life. Sure, I understood. I helped out with Johannah, with taking care of Ernst and Doris, with Freddie, I got Louis and Briana to be civil with each other, I took care of him in every way I could but… it wasn’t enough. I was always going to be second best in his life. Or even fourth, who knows.”

“When did you tell him?” Niall asked, his heart feeling as heavy as a bag of potatoes. No one should treat Harry as second best, not even the Doncaster cunt. Especially not him.

“Briana had come from work and I said we should have a picnic at the beach,” he told Niall. “It was then that I told him, ‘I can’t do this, Lou. Not anymore.’ and he looked at me and said, ‘I know. I didn’t know how to tell you.’”

“He knew?” he asked, surprised.

“I actually don’t know but a part of me thinks so. I think we both just.” Harry licked his lips. “Like how people fall in love slowly, now for us it was the opposite; we fell out of love slowly. Also,” he added, “this intervention that Liam is having for us is putting things into perspective, well, if not for me then for Louis.”

Niall scoffed. “Why do you care about your ex-boyfriend still? He was a douche.”

“Because he’s my friend – best friend – and that will always come first,” he said, firm. “No matter what happens he’ll be that person to me and I to him.”

Niall scowled looking at the setting sun out on the horizon, its sparks blinking at the English Channel.

“Niall, Jay won’t live long to see Lou’s birthday, it’ll be a miracle if she survives this month and the next. He lost me, he lost One D, just got Zayn back and if this intervention blows in Liam’s face, he’ll lose him again and I don’t want to see that happen.”

“He’ll always have Zayn as a friend.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow in question at him. “Zayn’ll always choose you, so if you don’t work everything out between you and Louis, he’ll pick your side if it comes down to it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I’m going to ignore you’ve just said that because you’re not that blind. That man looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass,” chuckled Harry.

Niall looked away, unable to hide the blush dusting his cheeks and neck properly and he swore Harry could hear his heart thunder underneath. He watched the tip of the sun hide behind the horizon, the day saying goodbye and the evening greeting them. He slightly frowned, wondering how they were talking about Louis’ dying mother and Liam’s attempt at mending their friendship when they began talking about the prospect of cooking jellyfish early in the afternoon.

“What are you really asking, H?”

“Louis is about to lose his mom and that’s one of the worst things to experience, even worse because Jay doesn’t remember him—doesn’t know her own son. If he loses Zayn’s it’s going to kill him, it did the first time now imagine a second time?”

“Louis’ been nothing but a cunt to Zayn.”

Harry bowed his head, the topic of Zayn and Simon Cowell and Harvey Berliner a sore spot between him and Louis. He had not believed him when Louis confessed that he knew what Mr Berliner was doing to Zayn, knew about the blackmailing Simon was doing to Berliner and he had gotten so mad, so extremely mad at him that they had not spoken for days.

“I’m asking you to please mend whatever it is that broke your friendship with Louis because if you don’t then not only does Louis lose you, but the rest of us.”

“What do you mean? He’ll have you and Liam.”

Harry shook his head. “Liam wants all of us as a package or none of us, that’s why I think he didn’t sign the contract that was terminating the band. Louis wants his best friend back, I want Louis to be happy and you can’t look at Louis without wanting to beat him up and Zayn’s stuck in the middle.”

“So you want me to… be friends with Louis again?” asked Niall, his tone turning menacing. “You want me to look past him knowing about the sexual harassment, past the strings he pulled to make sure Zayn was unsuccessful in his career, at him almost drowning at Liam’s birthday party, at everything he’s been through since he quit the band? You want me to forget all that?”

“You’re the one who doesn’t give up on people,” Harry said gently, reminding him. “You promised that you wouldn’t give up on him.”

“I remember stating I was done being there for him.”

“And that is false,” said Harry, his eyes widening a little that scared Niall just a tad truthful. “You’re not that person, it’s not in you to give up on those you care about. You forgave—”

Niall cut him off. “Zayn apologized and he had valid reasons for leaving the band.”

“Zayn forgave him, why can’t you forgive Lou?” he asked, sounding small and wanting and soft.

Niall opened his mouth to protest but words died on his tongue. Zayn had said the same thing yesterday before boarding the van. He had said that he forgave Louis in the same way he had forgiven Zayn for leaving the band.

Niall turned back to the sun, it barely visible but it was warmth and light still around them. “It’s different.”

“Is it?” Harry questioned.

The question lingered in his mind from watching the sun completely disappear to be replaced with a blue canvas littered with glittering stars to a walk down the beach to the nearest shop to buy ingredients that Zayn asked for dinner to eating dinner on the couch while watching something-or-other on the TV – he was not paying attention much.

“You seem a bit off,” commented Zayn. Niall blinked out of his thoughts to look at Zayn coming out of the bathroom, grabbing a comb and settling on the end of the bed. “When you came back with Harry, at dinner… now.”

“Sorry, Snookums, just a lot to think about now that’s it’s setting in that we’re here to make amends.”

Zayn was combing his hair, sitting like a pretzel on the bed. “Did something happen with Harry?”

Niall got off the bed, reaching over to the bedside table for the small box and placed it before Zayn’s feet. “I got you something.”

Zayn raised a quizzical eye before dropping his comb and opening the box. His eyes popped as his lips formed an ‘O’ shape. “You got me chocolate covered strawberries?”

Niall nodded, chuckling softly.

“Thank you,” he mumbled to Niall as he showered his lips with kisses over and over. “But,” he added half-moaning around a strawberry, “you’re not getting out that easy. Did Harry say something while you guys were out at the beach?”

Niall looked down at his fingers fidgeting nervously on his lap. “They broke up and Harry wants me to pretend to be his friend because Louis is losing people in his life.”

“He told you?”

“Told me…?”

“That he broke up with Louis?” asked Zayn. “Louis told us this afternoon, said something about the timing of their relationship being wrong.”

“Harry said something similar,” mumbled Niall.

“What do you mean Louis losing everyone in his life?”

Niall ran his fingers through his hair, watching his boyfriend chew his gift. “Jay apparently won’t make it to his birthday, he lost his boyfriend, he lost you as his best friend once and according to Haz, if we come out of this retreat without mending our differences, you’ll side with me and Louis will lose his best friend, again.”

“That’s… a lot.” Zayn put back his half-eaten strawberry in the box and gazed across at his boyfriend who was laying on his back. “What do you want to do?”

“I have no fucking idea!”

“Whatever you chose, I’ll be beside you.”

“If I take Haz’s advice, I’ll be fake friends with Louis and if I chose my own advice, you’ll lose your best friend and apparently I’ll be hurting the asshole more.”

Zayn crawled to his boyfriend on the bed and straddled his hips. He pressed his hands flat on Niall’s chest and gazed down deeply into his boyfriend’s baby blues.

“I can’t forgive him for the Mr Berliner incident,” said Niall, placing his hands on top of Zayn’s. “I can’t seem to overlook the fact that he and Simon knowingly knew, the entire time, what Mr Berliner was doing and—and they did _nothing_. And every time I see his face I want to hit him hit him so hard he drops dead.”

Zayn exhaled through his mouth.

“I know he doesn’t owe me anything, and he apologized to you and you forgave him – heaven knows why – but I can’t seem to. I just—can’t. And now Haz wants me to just because the asshole is going to lose his mother and lost his boyfriend.”

“ _Niall_.”

Niall rolled his head back, his eyes trailing up to the white ceiling of their large room with zigzag patterns. Zayn’s hands were on his shoulders and he was being pulled up, their noses bumping as Niall sat up, Zayn sitting happily on his lap.

“We take each day one step at a time,” said Zayn, gently, his eyes searching Niall’s. “I got your back because you’ve got mine. Wallahi.”

Niall leaned forward and pressed their lips together. “You’re my rock, Snookums.”

Zayn hummed on his lips.

“I love you, Snookums. Very, very, very much.”

Zayn wrapped his hands around Niall’s neck and kissed him greedily, hungrily, his hands pulling at the hem of his shirt. Niall opened up for his boyfriend, with his mouth, his body, his mind and his heart and as Zayn made sweet, sweet love to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have to apologize for the "hiatus" i had, i've been busy at work and barely have time for fanfics cause the moment i reach home i pass out \= but this month i decided to stop and actually PUT. IN. EFFORT (& i may have missed you guys ☺)
> 
> apologies aside, hope you liked the chapter !!!! it's down to the wire, the following chapters until the epilogue is the boys working out their friendship which was niall's goal in the beginning, this may go on for 2-3 chapters, not sure, i don't have it all planned out \= but let's see where the 5 boys go..
> 
> take care sons !! ♦


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